Metamorphosis
by Riniel o Imladris
Summary: Pale lavender eyelids flicker, thick black lashes caress porcelain cheeks – and Bella opens her eyes... She is awake. She is all right. Edward's point of view in "Breaking Dawn", beginning with Book Three.
1. Awakening

_**N**__obody controls his own life. The best you can do is choose to be controlled by good people, by people who love you._

Orson Scott Card, _Ender's Game_

--

I could not leave her side.

It is physically impossible; even as the faintest suggestion materializes in my mind, the muscles in my body lock down as though bracing for an assault, and a sharp sting – the memory of an absent heart, a hollowness that I had endured during those endless months when I tore myself from her – pierces my chest.

So I cease to think of leaving altogether.

She lies there, so still, her breath hissing through clenched teeth in short gasps. I hold her hand between my palms, hoping beyond all hope that she is not in pain – that she can feel me here, beside her.

And I tell myself that this is what she wanted, that it was the only way to save her in the horrific aftermath of our child's birth… and it is what _I_ wanted, if I was completely honest with myself, ever since I realized that I loved her.

I concentrate on the air filtering in and out of my lungs, using the motion to mark time as it passes inexorably, marching towards the moment that will define the remainder of my existence. I will know for certain then, at the inevitable end, whether I have failed or succeeded.

I did everything right – exactly the way that I had planned it, so carefully, inside my head. I did not allow myself to think as I plunged the steel barb into her weakly throbbing heart, flooding the organ with my venom. I did not taste the sweet nectar of her blood as I bit through the tender skin on her throat, her wrists, the creases of her elbows…

She got what she wanted. My venom flows through her bloodstream, changing her, reshaping her from a human to a vampire. Soon, that transformation will be complete. And I'll be able to keep her forever.

I am the most selfish creature that has ever walked this earth.

Footsteps ascend the staircase, composed and purposeful. I recognize the cadence just before my father calls my name with his thoughts. _Edward? I'm coming in to check on Bella._

I do not bother to form a reply. I stare, unblinking, at her face – so pale, so empty – and beg every god and power that has ever existed in this universe to grant me just one_ second_ of insight into her mind. To give me something, anything, that will let me know if this grand scheme of mine is working – if the morphine has spared her from the indescribable pain… or if she suffers in silence to keep me from blaming myself for subjecting her to such agony.

A whisper of air, and the door opens. My father approaches us, bending over fluidly on Bella's right side, opposite of me, to feel the pulse on her wrist. "Still no change?" he asks quietly while he counts the beats of her heart in his head.

"None." My voice sounds so strange, even to my own ears. All emotion has been leached from it – the word is as lifeless as the definition it implies.

Carlisle leans closer, inhaling the scent of the skin on Bella's forearm. "There's no scent of the morphine left." _Her body must have used it all. Or perhaps the venom purged it from her system._

"I know." The answer addresses both his words and his thoughts. My palms press together tightly, sandwiching her small hand, and I feel the smooth metal of her wedding ring against my skin. I will never forgive myself if she is in pain, paying for my selfishness, my inability to go on without her. Never.

"Bella?" Carlisle gently replaces her limp arm on the operating table, and calls, "Can you hear me?"

"Bella? Bella, love? Can you open your eyes?" I watch her frozen face for the slightest flicker of movement, and desperation wells inside my chest, turning my next question into a plea. "Can you squeeze my hand?" I remove my hand from atop hers and intertwine our fingers with the other. But hers remains motionless, even as I stare at the slender digits, silently willing them to twitch in my grasp.

Then my fear makes its presence known. It seizes control of my mouth, forcing out the unbearable thought that my brain has refused to finish contemplating. I lower my head, hiding my face in the curve of Bella's shoulder. "Maybe… Carlisle, maybe I was too late."

My voice, the toneless inflection, shatters like glass on the last word, cutting into my flesh and shredding what remains of my heart. A shudder ripples across my frame as the resurrected pain of loss begins to surface in my crystalline memory.

A large hand touches the crown of my head, resting comfortingly on my hair. "Listen to her heart, Edward," my father murmurs. Of their own accord, my ears attune themselves to the low thrum echoing steadily through the soft body beside me. "It's stronger than even Emmett's was. I've never heard anything so _vital._ She'll be perfect."

My accursed, perfect memory recalls the sickening crack that had filled this room, the image of her beautiful form crumpling like a rag doll on the table, and I shudder again. A second passes as I inhale the smell – her unique smell – from the skin over her collarbone, using its familiarity to calm my fractured sanity. It occurs to me belatedly that the scent does not cause my throat to burn as fiercely as before. Then, I manage to ask, "And her – her spine?"

"Her injuries weren't so much worse than Esme's. The venom will heal her as it did Esme." Carlisle's hand starts to withdraw, slowly, from my head, while he continues to console me mentally. _You mustn't lose yourself in despair, son. Bella will be just fine._

"But she's so still." I pull our interlocked fingers upward, clutching them to my chest. "I_ must_ have done something wrong."

_Oh, Edward… _My father is suddenly at my side, laying a palm on my hunched shoulders. Part of me does not wish to be comforted, especially if my incompetence has caused any harm to befall my Bella… but another part of me – the broken, weeping part – craves the soothing, familial gesture.

"Or something right, Edward," Carlisle says. His tone rings with quiet confidence. "Son, you did everything I could have and more. I'm not sure I would have had the persistence, the faith it took to save her." His hand squeezes my shoulder for a moment. "Stop berating yourself. Bella is going to be fine."

A broken whisper escapes my parted lips. "She must be in agony."

"We don't know that." Carlisle has a gift for speaking so calmly, smoothing the frayed edges of my nerves with the simplest logic. "She had so much morphine in her system. We don't know the effect that will have on her experience." _Perhaps I will ask her about it, once she's had time to adjust._

I tune out his speculations. I do not want to think about Bella's 'experience', what she may or may not be enduring in her unusual stillness. Pulling my face away from her shoulder, I place a feather-light kiss on the crease of her elbow, in the same exact spot where my teeth had ruptured her silken flesh. "Bella, I love you." The sentiment wafts over her prone body as a barely audible murmur, and I pray that she hears me. "Bella, I'm sorry."

Both my father and I tense slightly as a scuffle erupts downstairs. Despite the heartache I feel for the woman lying in front of me, I have the sudden urge to roll my eyes in exasperation. Again, Rosalie and Jacob are arguing over whose turn it is to hold my – _our_ – newborn daughter.  
Renesmee has disrupted my family's existence in the most wonderful, profound way, and I love her with a love that is just as strong as what I feel for Bella, only channeled in a different direction. The responsibility of fatherhood is a concept that I thought I would never experience, and now Bella has given me – not only a timeless life with her, my soul mate – but also the gift of seeing myself mirrored in a child's face.

Eternity is not nearly long enough to repay all that Bella has done for me.

A low growl rumbles from below; Rose's thoughts are considerably worse and far more murderous than her wordless warning. Jacob should consider himself very lucky that she is, as of now, only making idle threats on his life. Carlisle glances at me from the corner of his eye. _You ought to head downstairs, Edward, and claim your daughter before we have a real war on our hands. I can stay with Bella until you return._

My head is already shaking in the negative before his train of thought draws to a close. "No, I'm staying right here," I whisper fervently, my body unconsciously taut at the notion of removing myself from her side. "They'll sort it out."

"An interesting situation," my father muses. _A werewolf imprinting on the half human, half vampire child of the woman he loves. _"And I'd thought I'd seen just about everything."

My teeth clench, the muscles in my jaw flexing as I struggle to rein in my animosity towards the dog.

It really is no fault of his own that the imprint happened – he had no control over it.

But did it have to be _my _daughter?

It was bad enough that Jacob sought for months to steal Bella away from me, and then to have him blame me constantly in his thoughts during her extremely painful pregnancy. _Now_ he is tied to Renesmee, a thirty-six hour old infant that her mother has only seen for a handful of seconds, and I am just supposed to go along with it?

I make a concerted effort to unlock my jaw and ease the tension from my muscles. The decision is not mine alone, if a decision can even be made in this very odd situation. Once I am certain that my voice will not reflect the lingering strain tugging at my mind, I say firmly, "I'll deal with it later. _We'll_ deal with it." I turn over Bella's hand, still twined with mine, and kiss her palm.

Carlisle's thoughts are relatively serene. "I'm sure, between the five of us, we can keep it from turning into bloodshed." _Though Rose may be difficult to restrain; she's become awfully territorial. And Jacob is no better, _he adds.

I sigh heavily. He is right, of course, but I haven't the slightest idea how to proceed. While I am beyond irritated that the imprinting occurred at all, it has granted Renesmee indisputable protection from Sam's pack. Their laws forbid any wolf to take aggressive action against the object of another wolf's imprint; the loss would destroy not only their brother, but the entire pack, as well.

"I don't know which side to take," I reply truthfully. "I'd love to flog them both." My eyes flick over to Bella's too-still face, and I amend, "Well, later."

"I wonder what Bella will think – whose side she'll take."

Laughter bubbles up inside my throat, leaving my mouth as a low, strained chuckle. Bella is utterly unpredictable, which is part of the reason why I love her so much. Though I would never admit that to her –she tortures me enough with her silent thinking and editing as it is. So I remark with grudging sincerity, "I'm sure she'll surprise me. She always does."

Carlisle laughs inside his head, and then is distracted by Jacob throwing yet another blonde joke in Rosalie's face. He sighs quietly. _I'll head down and see if I can diffuse the situation, _he tells me. _Call me if there is any change in her condition. _He does not seem to expect a reply, so I do not offer one. My father moves toward the doorway, and I am left alone once again with my Bella.

Her blood is beginning to slow – I can feel it in the veins just beneath the thin skin of her hand. Her body temperature is cooling, as well, and the ivory contours of her exposed shoulders and throat have a faint sheen – the tender, fragile, human flesh becoming the impenetrable barrier that clothes all vampires.

It is working, then. These subtle differences in her physique are concrete proof that the transformation is proceeding exactly as it should.

I just wish I could be certain how much longer it would take.

As an immortal creature, time is of little consequence, though I will be the first to admit that I am not the most patient vampire in the world. As I had told Bella the night before our wedding – that shining, glorious day and the weeks we spent together on the island have been seared with flawless clarity in my brain – I waited a century to marry her, the woman who, by some strange twist of fate, was meant for me. And the ninety or so years separating us were not 'time well spent', as the saying goes.

I focus once more on slow, even breaths, dredging up as much patience as I can muster.

If I can wait one hundred years for love, I can survive three days.

Hours pass. Bella remains motionless, though the changes in her appearance are more pronounced as the venom continues to spread. Her hair, though it had been tangled and matted with dried blood, is now smooth and lustrous, and the deep brown is faceted with shades of red and dark honey. There is also a slight elongation to her limbs, as though a master sculptor returned to his creation and is in the process of remolding the figure, embellishing on her perfection.

An image surfaces hazily in my mind's eye: a swirl of long, dark hair, racing through the moonlit forest ahead of me, peals of delighted laughter echoing through the night.

_Finally!_ A triumphant exclamation follows the swirling vision. And my sister waltzes merrily into the room, her tiny feet skipping lightly across the wood floor.

"How much longer?" I try to keep my impatience to a minimum, phrasing the question as mildly as possible, considering the present circumstance.

Alice pauses beside me; her bright grin sparkles in the corner of my eye. "It won't be long now," she trills in her high soprano voice. "See how clear she's becoming?" She recalls the vision from before, and I have to agree – the edges are more clearly defined, and the motion no longer turns the image into smudges of color with no discernible shape. "I can see her so much better." She sighs with relief.

My cheek twitches in response. "Still feeling a little bitter?"

Alice's head whips sideways. I can sense her golden eyes glaring irritably at my profile. "Yes, thanks so much for bringing it up," she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest. "You would be mortified, too, if you realized that you were handcuffed by your own nature. I see vampires best, because I am one; I see humans okay, because I was one." She grits her teeth in frustration. "But I can't see these odd half-breeds at all because they're nothing I've experienced." A flurry of white erupts next to me as Alice throws up her hands, huffing with annoyance, "Bah!"

A spark of anger flares inside my silent ribcage, burning away my short-lived amusement over Alice's reply. She is so easily distracted – even for a vampire – and I am not in the mood to deal with her quicksilver attention span.

"Focus, Alice." It comes out sounding like a command, which would normally provoke a vehement response from my sister… but she must see something in my expression that causes her to immediately cooperate.

"Right. Bella's almost too easy to see now."

Her mind becomes completely blank for a split second as she focuses, submerging herself in her gift. Then, an image flickers, like old film, in both of our minds.

I see myself, with my entire family gathered loosely around the bedroom, in the arms of my wife. For a moment, I am stunned by the joyous abandon with which my future self is kissing Bella; there is not the faintest shadow of restraint in the way I hold her body tightly against mine.

Before I am able to register all of the feelings bombarding me in that instant, Emmett clears his throat, and Bella jerks backward – the motion too fast for a human to perform. I use the half-second that follows, while she is standing perfectly still as only our kind can, to analyze her condition.

I cannot find one flaw.

But then again, I never could.

The vision swirls away into blackness, like oil spilled upon a rippling pond, and a soft sigh lifts the crushing burden of the unknown from my shoulders. "She's really going to be fine." The words are breathless, colored with immense relief.

Alice replies confidently, her tone almost smug. "Of course she is."

This time I cannot resist; I shoot her a quick sidelong glance, keeping Bella's face in my peripheral view. "You weren't so sanguine two days ago," I inform her, an eyebrow arching high on my forehead.

She rolls her eyes at my remark, snarling at me inside her head. "I couldn't _see_ right two days ago," Alice retorts, perturbed… and then her expression lightens. "But now that she's free of all the blind spots, it's a piece of cake."

Impatience prompts my mouth to form another urgent question as my gaze drifts from Alice to center wholly on Bella. "Could you concentrate for me? On the clock – give me an estimate." A fingertip, lightly as the brush of a feather, smoothes a strand of dark hair from her porcelain cheek.

_Honestly… _My sister heaves a long-suffering sigh. "So impatient. Fine. Give me a sec –"

A whirlwind of colors, shapes, and sounds race past both of our eyes as Alice repeats to herself the reminder to envision a clock face. Suddenly, four numbers – glowing a dull crimson like the alarm clock in Bella's old room – flash swiftly across our shared vision.

A little over six hours from now.

I hear the small smile in my voice before my brain interprets the expression shaping my features. "Thank you, Alice."

_You're welcome._ Alice is quiet for a moment, recalling her earlier vision of Bella and I, comparing it to the immobile figure on the table, and marvels at her newest sister's beauty in her thoughts. _I always thought she was pretty – for a human – but now… _Aloud, she muses with keen enthusiasm, "She's going to be dazzling."

My chest vibrates with a muted growl. Bella, for some reason I cannot fathom, has serious self-esteem issues. One of our very first conversations, in fact, alluded to this long-standing problem: _"Well, look at me. I'm absolutely ordinary – well, except for bad things like all the near-death experiences and being so clumsy that I'm almost disabled. And look at you."_

She is so amazingly perceptive to the world and the people around her…and yet seems to be incapable of seeing herself clearly. In my eyes, an angel descending from the heavens would be_ less_ divine than my Bella.

The growl is still shivering in the air as I retort curtly to Alice, "She always has been." As dazzling as a shooting star – searing into my eyes, a rainbow trail of light in her wake across a black velvet sky…

A delicate snort erupts from the tiny vampire at my side. "You know what I mean. _Look_ at her."  
Alice sweeps her tiny hand towards Bella in a dramatic gesture, excitement ricocheting within her mind and igniting a wildfire of half-finished thoughts. _She's so _perfect._ Not as stunning as Rosalie, of course – but then again, no one is… She has a classic beauty, like a Renaissance painting. Oh, I can't _wait_ to buy her some more appropriate clothing! But what she's wearing now looks all right… _My sister eyes the ridiculous silk dress that she insisted we put on Bella critically, debating whether or not the fit is right – and I abruptly tune her out. Alice wants our entire family, Bella included, to 'get the full effect' of her transformation; somehow, in her mind, that equals a fitted ice blue designer gown. I told her – repeatedly – that Bella would not like it, but she just called me a spoilsport and stated that her new sister may as well get used to a chic wardrobe.

Alice calls my name mentally, reclaiming my attention. _I'm going with Esme for a quick hunt. We'll be back before Bella wakes up._ She flits over to the door, and is gone before a full second has passed.

I resume my silent vigil…waiting, always waiting. My awareness – the part that is not permanently fixated on my wife, that is – drifts throughout our home, taking note of several things.

Rose is fighting over holding Renesmee like a petulant child demanding a turn on the merry-go-round, and Jacob snarls in response. His thoughts are astonishingly protective…and yet, there is no claim of ownership darkening his internal rationale. He does not trust Rosalie in the slightest, convinced that she would sooner run off with the baby than give her back to her parents.  
And I am inclined to agree, to an extent. I do not trust Rose, either – but she _did _look after Bella during the pregnancy, and for whatever reason, Bella had turned to her for aid. To honor the trust my wife has placed in my sister, I have not directly addressed the situation. Yet.

When Bella awakens, I suspect that many things will jump into sharper focus for all of us.

Emmett is watching the ball game, and monitoring Rosalie and Jacob in the process. For him, at least, not much has changed. My brother remains as easygoing as the day I met him.

I listen to the game with idle interest, though Emmett's mental notes on baseball strategy for our next family game are far more intriguing than the human players' efforts.  
And the time ticks by with almost maddening slowness. I play my piano inside my head, alternating between Bella's lullaby and a flowing descant that reminds me of Renesmee's cherubic smile – until the heartbeat I am using as my metronome suddenly changes pace. The rhythm is frenzied, almost desperate, as the venom consumes the last human part of Bella's body.

It is nearly finished.

"Carlisle." My father hears me call for him and comes upstairs at once, with Alice on his heels. Each is wearing a similar expression of curiosity and anticipation. "Listen," I instruct, sparing them both a fleeting glance before returning my attention to Bella.

A handful of seconds pass, marked solely by the wild thrumming, and Carlisle says with mild relief, "Ah. It's almost over."

"Soon." Alice is practically beside herself, barely resisting the urge to clap her hands in celebration. "I'll get the others," she volunteers, hovering just inside the threshold. "Should I have Rosalie…?"

She concludes the sentence mentally, and I nod in agreement. "Yes – keep the baby away."  
A newborn vampire has very little self-control, and Renesmee is half human. I cannot risk the life of my daughter, even though it means keeping her safe from the uncontrollable instincts of her mother.

The slim white fingers of the small hand cradled inside mine twitch convulsively. I suck in a sharp breath, holding it within my lungs; Alice and Carlisle have frozen, as well, staring at the prone figure on the table.

"Bella?" I squeeze her hand gently, intent on her facial expression – but it is unchanged. "Bella, love?"

_Less than a minute, _my sister observes as she is struck by another vision. In an urgent tone, she murmurs audibly, "I'll bring them right up," and vanishes from the doorway.

Bella's heart abruptly switches gears yet again, pounding in the air with renewed ferocity and throbbing like a hummingbird's wings. I have the sudden, bizarre fear that her heart will somehow puncture its way out of her chest with its violent palpitations – and then she moves, effectively removing all other thought from my brain.

Her back arches, curving above the table in a violent seizure. It is the first clear sign of pain that I have seen from her, and though she does not scream, the movement is enough for me to cringe in anguish.

_Be strong, son, _my father soothes. As I watch her body slump lifelessly against the operating table, the rest of the family – minus Rose – files silently into the room. They place themselves by the far wall.  
Jasper assumes a defensive stance in front of Alice, advising me with his thoughts that even though Bella is my wife and we all love her, newborns are volatile creatures. He will not let his guard down for a second.

Emmett takes his cue from Jasper; he positions his enormous hulk at point, clearly unworried that his new sister will present the slightest threat to him or anyone else. Esme reaches out a beseeching hand to Carlisle, which he grasps at once, joining her behind Emmett's massive frame. And Alice… she is virtually bouncing in place, bobbing up and down on the balls of her feet, counting down inside her head.

_Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…_

Bella's heart gives out a deep, hollow thud. It stutters twice, as though refusing to surrender, and beats one final time – a farewell.

Silence.

No one dares to even breathe. No thoughts invade my skull…save one. Alice is still counting.

…_five, four, three, two, one._

Pale lavender eyelids flicker, thick black lashes caress porcelain cheeks – and Bella opens her eyes.

The vivid scarlet of her irises throws me for an instant, but I refuse to let this aspect of her new nature burst the bubble of elation rising within my chest.

She is awake. She is all right.

Her eyes study some unknown object on the ceiling and she inhales in surprise, full lips parting slightly in wonder. She takes in another breath – slower, more measured – and I find myself wishing for the umpteenth time that I could hear her mind.

Her hand, still resting lightly in mine, receives a brief, gentle squeeze. My body automatically tenses, preparing for a reaction from a potentially hazardous newborn vampire, but I forcefully command the corded muscles to loosen. If Bella senses that I am braced for a fight, her instincts may override her common sense. This is the safest place for me to gain some understanding of her lucidity – surrounded by my, _our_ family.  
If there is going to be any type of capricious behavior from her, it will happen now.

Bella freezes on the table, eyes popping wide. Jasper internally shouts a warning as he reads the shock rippling off of her, but I do not move. A feral noise hisses through Bella's clenched teeth – and she is twisting away from me, yanking her hand from mine as she leaps off the table. Crouching against the nearest wall, her lithe body curled defensively, I watch as realization and then shame leaks into her brilliant red eyes.  
I keep my position – leaning across the operating table, hand outstretched – for a moment, unable to smother my anxiety. Bella's stare darts to our family on the opposite wall, assessing each one's expression and stance. Then her wide-eyed gaze flits back to mine. Impossibly, her eyes grow even larger; a low gasp filters through her lips. I find that I cannot fully interpret her expression, because she is looking at me as if she has never seen me before.

A fraction of a second ticks by and Bella is standing upright, though she lingers hesitantly by the wall.

I decide to make the next move, if only to relieve some of the tension from her slender shoulders. Besides, I can hardly bear to stay this far away from her when she is so close.

Leaving my hand held out in front of me, I approach her slowly, willing my voice to convey tranquility. "Bella?" She continues to stare, unblinking, a strangely bemused glaze over her eyes. "Bella, love?"

My steps carry me to her motionless form. I do not think about anything else, or become distracted by my family's cautioning words or Alice's positive assurances.

Bella is my whole world. That fact has never rang truer than in this moment.

"I'm sorry, I know it's disorienting. But you're all right. Everything is fine."

Something flashes behind her eyes – several emotions that I cannot name – but her face remains a smooth, white marble mask. I will do anything to cast off that mask from my Bella's beautifully expressive face. Tentatively, my hand reaches out, and I brush my fingertips along the curved line of her cheekbone.

Her skin no longer smolders with heat under my touch, but is the same temperature as mine, and as delicately smooth and inviting as satin.

The sensation is beyond description.

Bella's watching gaze softens; it is scarcely noticeable, but I see it, and my fingers tingle from their point of contact with her skin. Unable to resist, I let my palm mold itself to the shape of her face. The softening in her eyes intensifies, and although the color has changed, my mind immediately recognizes the warmth dominating her stare.

Desire.

I arch one eyebrow, waiting for her to speak, while the rest of me is utterly baffled.

All that newborns crave is blood. They exist that way for a few years – animalistic, ruled by their needs – until the more civil, human tendencies begin to resurface.  
I was prepared to deal with those rough months at Bella's side, helping her combat the darker part of herself, and wait for the day when she would be more like…_Bella._

I should know better than to underestimate her.

A rush of air, a blur of motion – and thin arms stronger than iron are wrapped around me, so tight that it actually causes pain to register in my nerves. Bella presses her face into my chest, inhaling deeply as she used to when she was human, and her grip tightens. The pain flares, twisting my features into a grimace, and I shift my weight to lean away.

Her head lifts at once, looking up at me in confusion and fear. A dull ache throbs in my dead heart at the notion that she is afraid I might reject her; I need to clarify without alarming her – and to free myself from her increasingly constricting embrace. "Um…carefully, Bella." I wince. "Ow."

Horror washes across her face and she pulls away, clasping her arms behind her back. "Oops," she mouths, her full lips forming a perfect "o". She remembers from my and Jasper's explanations months ago that newborns are considerably stronger than mature vampires. I take that as a good sign.

I smile at her crookedly, the pain fading from my limbs, and touch her rounded lips with my fingers. "Don't panic, love. You're just a bit stronger than I am for the moment."

Her brow furrows, a little crease appearing in the center of her forehead. I turn my hand – the one touching her mouth – sideways, and softly stroke her cheek with my knuckles. Warmth, like blazing embers, fills her eyes and sends an electric jolt into the pit of my stomach.

Bella unlocks her arms and brings her right hand forward with deliberate care. Eyes never straying from mine, she places her palm against my face as if I am made of glass. A shudder quivers down my spine in response to the familiar, and yet so different, caress.

She speaks, and my accustomed ears immediately pick out the subtle, musical overtones now coloring the voice that I know as well as my own.

"I love you."

My answering smile glitters in the reflection inside her pupils. I am made whole by those three small words, issuing from her mouth, and my gaze bores into hers, energy fizzling between us like the charged atmosphere before a lightning storm.

"As I love you," I say in reply, and frame her face with my hands. Leaning down slowly as she tilts her chin upward, I press my lips to hers gently – a near-perfect imitation of our very first kiss.

Bella's response is exactly the same. She gasps throatily, parting her lips, and links her arms around my neck. Rising on her tiptoes, her hands tangle into my hair as she presses herself against me, and I nearly break off – an old habit, to keep myself from hurting her.  
But the friction caused by our meshing mouths, the resiliency of the soft body in my arms, reminds me that I do not have to be careful anymore. I will not harm her ever again by not harnessing my inhuman strength or my monstrous urges. I can finally, at long last, give myself completely to her.

My hands leave her face simultaneously. One cups the back of her head, my long fingers threading into her silky dark hair – and the other snakes around her waist, my palm nestling into the small of her back, pulling her closer. I open my mouth to hers, tasting her breath on my tongue, and she throws herself into our kiss with fresh vigor. She yanks us into the wall, using the flat surface as momentum, and wraps her leg around mine, pushing our hips together. A growl ripples past my teeth, and is echoed within her mouth as I nibble along the curve of her lower lip.

Her scent is everywhere. The scalding burn brought on by the smell of her blood is absent from my throat, but Bella's unique aroma is surprisingly the same as before. Freesia, of course, is the dominant flavor – but there is also a mixture of orange blossom, mimosa, and a light fragrance that brings to mind a spring rain soaking the forests on the mountaintop.

As much as I am enjoying this reunion with my wife, it becomes apparent that the members of our family who are witnesses to our intimacy are growing uncomfortable. _Jeez, get a room already, _Emmett teases, and clears his throat loudly.

Bella's lips pause on mine; her eyes snap open, widening in mortification. She lowers her leg and takes a half step away, dropping her arms from my shoulders. Looking down, shamefaced, she bites her lip – and I am certain that if she could still blush, her entire face would be a deep red.

I chuckle at her antics, but do not allow her to escape from my embrace. I move with her, my arms encircling her waist, and turn our bodies so that we both can see the others by the opposite wall. My mouth seems to be incapable of producing any expression besides a smile; with Bella finally assuming a permanent role in the endlessness of my existence, it is like everything we have borne to reach this moment is actually worth it – worth all the anguish and fear and uncertainty.

She is still averting her eyes, inhaling a slow breath, and I feel her settle down. Her gaze flicks up to my face, studying the expression on it, and her eyes narrow the tiniest bit. "You've been holding out on me," she accuses, pursing her lips.

Laughter, warm and relieved, bursts out of me. I am pleased, even a little smug, that she noticed the difference in my response during our kiss. It was the way I always wished that I could respond to her… but it was too dangerous to allow myself that much freedom with her breakable body.

"It was sort of necessary at the time," I remark, offering her a broad grin. "Now it's your turn to not break _me."_ And I trail off into laughter again while she frowns worriedly. A low chime of mirth joins in with mine, and Bella's head whips sideways as footsteps approach us.

Carlisle steps around Emmett's bulk with a slight smile, though his eyes and his thoughts are slightly wary. Jasper shadows my father's advance, as guarded as ever in the presence of a newborn. I fight the impulse to roll my eyes at my brother; Bella is no threat. While I will admit that certain precautions must be implemented to avoid any carnage, I firmly believe that all of us together are able to help Bella control herself.

But that will make little difference to Jasper – he is set in his ways.

My father comes to a stop less than a foot from Bella and I, his attention locked on her, measuring her condition with his wise golden eyes. "How do you feel, Bella?" he asks.

"Overwhelmed," she answers, looking at him in awe. "There's so much…"

Carlisle nods somberly. "Yes, it can be quite confusing."

Her head jerks up and down once. "But I feel like me. Sort of." She seems confused and thankful that this is the case. "I didn't expect that."

I tighten my arms around her. Bending down so that my lips are by her ear, I whisper into her hair, "I told you so."

Bella had been so worried that she would lose her sense of identity as a newborn vampire, living only as a bloodthirsty animal for several years until she was mature enough to rediscover herself and curb her appetite.  
I tried to tell her many times that she would still be Bella, but it never really seemed to sink in and penetrate her limited understanding of a vampire's true disposition.

Now, she has solid confirmation that she is still the same woman who makes up half of all that I am.

_I must say that I am impressed, _my father muses inwardly – and I am inclined to agree. "You are quite controlled," he continues aloud, addressing Bella. "More so than _I_ expected, even with the time you had to prepare yourself mentally for this."

Bella's expression crumples a bit, darkening with insecurity. "I'm not sure about that," she whispers.

Carlisle lowers his head, acquiescing to her analysis. _Newborns are unstable, _he says to me, _but I stand by what I said earlier – she is amazingly controlled. _Then his train of thought shifts in a new direction. _I wonder if… _"It seems like we did something right with the morphine this time," he observes with interest. My jaw tenses just a fraction, but neither he or Bella seem to notice. "Tell me," my father inquires, hoping to appease his undying curiosity, "what do you remember of the transformation process?"

She hesitates briefly. I watch her expression intently, my emotions warring between hope that she did not experience the intense pain and the morphine did its job – and terror that she may have suffered as we all had, despite my best efforts to ease her way.

She begins haltingly, faint lines forming on her brow as she recalls. "Everything was…very dim before. I remember the baby couldn't breathe…" Her face flashes up, awash with fear as she stares at me.

"Renesmee is healthy and well," I assure her, my own memory drifting back to the first time I gazed into my daughter's rich brown eyes – the exact same eyes as her mother. I want so badly to take Bella to her right now… but it would not be safe, for either of them.

I refocus on the present situation, and ask Bella, "What do you remember after that?"

Her expression smoothes, wiping away the lines marring her forehead, and becomes politely blank.

A twinge of suspicion worms its way into my brain. It is the perfect poker face – a replica of the level gaze I employ when I do not want to reveal to her what I am thinking or feeling for a variety of reasons. Is she trying to hide something from me? But why?

I try to read her eyes, to gain some insight into her thoughts – but she turns her head, glancing over at Carlisle. My suspicion grows, coiling like a snake around my spinal column.

"It's hard to remember," Bella replies, a faint inflection in her tone that puzzles me. Usually, I can tell immediately when she is lying, but she seems so sincere.  
Perhaps I am overreacting – which, I am told, I do quite often.  
She resumes her account in a quiet voice, "It was so dark before. And then… I opened my eyes and I could see _everything."_

"Amazing." Carlisle is aglow, his thoughts spiraling in a million different directions. _Think of what this could mean for any future transformations… to be free from the pain and just wake up as a vampire – as though one has merely been asleep. The possibilities are limitless…_

He leans toward Bella, eager for more information. "I want you to think – to tell me everything you remember," he urges excitedly.

Bella grimaces, flinching infinitesimally into my chest. I glare at my father, preparing to rebuke him for badgering my wife, forcing her to relay an event that she would obviously like to forget just to satisfy his insatiable thirst for knowledge.

But he detects her discomfort at once, the eagerness in his eyes softening instantly with remorse, and I feel a pang of guilt for being ready to snap at my perpetually compassionate father.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Bella," Carlisle apologizes. "Of course your thirst must be very uncomfortable. This conversation can wait."

The pang of guilt intensifies tenfold, redirecting its concentration from my father to Bella. In all honesty, I had not given the smallest consideration to the unquenchable burn that Bella no doubt is feeling in the back of her throat. My selfishness, it seems, has no bounds.

Bella's head tilts to the side for a second, like she is unsure as to what Carlisle is referring. Then, she swallows – and her hand flies to her neck, cupping the slender column as her expression mirrors her sudden realization of the ache in her throat.

Lowering my arms, I grasp her free hand and tug gently. "Let's hunt, Bella." I will not allow another second to pass with her in pain; we will take care of her needs first, now and forever.

Impossibly, her wide, ruby-colored eyes widen even further, and her mouth hangs open in shock. I can tell what she is thinking – for once – as I decipher the alarm brimming in her stare. I give her an encouraging smile. "It's quite easy, love. Instinctual. Don't worry, I'll show you." She remains immobile, so I slant my mouth into her favorite crooked grin, raising my eyebrows. "I was under the impression that you'd always _wanted_ to see me hunt." Indeed, since that first uncensored exchange in the high school cafeteria, Bella had pled on numerous occasions to observe me hunting. No matter how many times I told her that it was too dangerous, she would come up with a new suggestion: Alice or one of the others could guard her – or my favorite, and the most ridiculous, someone could videotape the hunt and she would watch it later.

She giggles, the sound sparkling pleasantly in the air and ringing like music in my ears, and her rigid stance melts away. "Shall we?" I ask, and reach up to softly remove the hand from her neck. Running my fingers lightly down the silken skin of her throat, I add in a low murmur, "I don't want you to be hurting."

"I'm fine," she returns – a habitual response – and a new light enters her eyes. "Wait. First."

"Yes?" My father replies before I can.

Bella lifts her chin fractionally; whatever she is about to ask, she has made up her mind that it is what she wants – and she wants it now. I brace myself internally. There is only one thing I can think of that she could possibly want more than the opportunity to go on a hunt with me.

"I want to see her." Her tone is solemn, resolved. "Renesmee." Her small hands slide from mine and fall to her stomach, pressing the palms against the blue silk. She looks down at herself, and clutches the fabric in her fists – then her gaze flicks over to me as she peers through lowered eyelashes.

I am not looking at Bella; Carlisle is speaking quickly to me with his thoughts, his eyes careful.  
_We cannot allow her to be in the same room as Renesmee – not until we can be sure that she will not attack. I know how much it would mean to Bella – and to you, Edward – but it's just not possible now._

I lower my eyelids with slow deliberation – a wordless agreement. Of course I will not risk my daughter's life, and I know that Bella will feel the same way once she understands the danger.

"What?" she demands, eyes shifting from me to Carlisle and back again.

"Bella," I begin softly, adopting a tender, calming tone that has worked miracles in the past. "That's not really a good idea." Sparks ignite red fire in her glare, and I continue, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, "She's half human, love. Her heart beats, and blood runs in her veins. Until your thirst is positively under control… You don't want to put her in danger, do you?"

She frowns deeply, her lowered brow creating shadowed hollows around her crimson eyes. "Where is she?" Tilting her head to one side, she listens to the sounds echoing from downstairs – and swallows thickly when the rhythm of Jacob's heart triggers a wash of venom in her mouth. The dull luster of acceptance somewhat cools the eager glow in her gaze, and I breathe an inward sigh of relief. Bella recognizes that she has to be patient, learn to control herself, before she is ready to see our daughter.

"Is Rosalie with her?" she questions, inadvertently provoking my lingering antipathy for the blonde vampire.

"Yes." The monosyllabic answer is clipped, terse. Bella's frown twists as she scrutinizes my face curiously. Before she can ask another stalling question, I grasp her hands and tug gently. She needs to hunt.

"Wait," the protest comes out loudly, and she holds her place as though her feet are cemented to the wood floor. "What about Jacob? And Charlie? Tell me everything that I missed. How long was I…unconscious?"

This time, I look over at Carlisle, warning him to be quiet with my eyes. _We cannot keep her in the dark forever, Edward, _he sends in reply. _A general overview will suffice for the time being, until you feel that she is ready to hear the whole story._

"What's wrong?" Bella whispers, eyeing the two of us warily.

My father instantly shifts his attention to her, his lips curved in a small, comforting arc. "Nothing is _wrong._ Nothing has changed much, actually – you were only unaware for just over two days." She blinks at him in surprise. "It was very fast, as these things go. Edward did an excellent job. Quite innovative – the venom injection straight to your heart was his idea." Carlisle beams at me with pride. _You continue to surpass me in nearly every way, son. _That is hardly true – but now is not the time to contradict him.

Then he sighs, returning to the business at hand. "Jacob is still here, and Charlie still believes that you are sick. He thinks you're in Atlanta right now, undergoing tests at the CDC." His expression fills with apology. "We gave him a bad number, and he's frustrated. He's been speaking to Esme."

_The poor man is at his wit's end, _my mother laments to herself.  
Esme has a great deal of sympathy for Charlie; the pain of losing a child makes her feel a bond with Bella's father that goes deeper than the link our marriage forged between our families. Every time he calls, she wants to offer him some consolation… but the only thing that would allay his fears is the truth. And that is the one thing she is unable to give.

"I should call him…" Bella begins to suggest, and trails off, sadly shaking her head. She knows as well as I that Charlie must remain oblivious for as long as possible, for his own safety.

"Hold on –" her forehead wrinkles slightly. "Jacob is _still here?"_

Carlisle and I glance at one another simultaneously. This is_ not_ something that I wish to discuss with Bella at the moment. I would prefer not to discuss it _ever,_ in fact. But…

"Bella," I reply swiftly, "there's much to discuss, but we should take care of you first." I tug again on her hands, feeling a tiny surge of victory when she staggers forward a few steps. "You have to be in pain…"

The muscles in her slim throat undulate as she swallows hard – yet she still remains as obstinate as ever. "But Jacob –"

"We have all the time in the world for explanations, love."

The stubborn line of her mouth evaporates in response to the gentle reminder, and she nods. "Okay."

"Wait, wait, wait!"

I throw an aggravated glower at Alice as she glides across the room, but she ignores it, pointing a deceptively fragile-looking finger in my face and shaking it like I am a disobedient child. "You promised I could be there the first time! What if you two run past something reflective?"

"Alice –" My objection is marred slightly by my gritted teeth.

"It will only take a second!" She dashes through the doorway, and a heavy sigh retreats from my lungs.

Bella is totally at sea, staring at the place where Alice had just been standing in utter bewilderment. "What is she talking about?"

As the last word is leaving her mouth, Alice is back, holding Rosalie's enormous gilded mirror. The overall image is vaguely comical; the mirror is double her height and at least five times wider. She supports its weight from the bottom, and it practically floats towards Bella and I as though suspended from the ceiling by invisible wires.

Jasper follows in Alice's wake, hovering beside her, while his keen stare is fixated on Bella. She stiffens, her hands turning into frozen stone in mine, and I glance over to see her gazing wide-eyed at Jasper. I realize what she must be seeing – the battle scars decorating my brother's neck and jaw are impossible for any vampire to completely ignore. Bella would not have seen them clearly with her human eyes.

The silk draping the contours of her body shifts as the muscles underneath tense instinctively. Jasper reads her emotional state for a brief moment, and smiles down at her wryly.

Alice's pixie-like face appears suddenly on the left side of the mirror. She seems to not have noticed the exchange between her husband and her favorite sister. "Edward gave me grief for not getting you to a mirror before the wedding," she explains cheerily. "I'm not going to be chewed out again."

I quirk an eyebrow, dubious. "Chewed out?"

Her face disappears behind the mirror, adjusting its position so that Bella is fully visible in the reflective glass. "Maybe I'm overstating things," she comments in an absentminded tone.

"And maybe this has solely to do with your own voyeuristic gratification," I counter, dropping Bella's hands to fold my arms across my chest. The top half of my sister's head pops up beside the mirror's gilt frame, and she winks one twinkling gold eye.

Bella rotates slowly, watching herself in the polished glass. The porcelain mask is once again concealing her expressions, and her eyes do not stay in one place long enough for me to construe her thoughts as she examines her new self.

Staring into her reflection's unblinking red gaze, she whispers faintly, "The eyes? How long?"

I slide closer, looking at her face in the mirror, and murmur in a soft, placating voice, "They'll darken up in a few months. Animal blood dilutes the color more quickly than a diet of human blood. They'll turn amber first, then gold."

The mask starts to crack; frightened disbelief rounds her scarlet-colored eyes. "Months?" she squeaks, eyebrows arching high on her forehead.

_She's losing it, _Jasper states, grimly positive. He walks forward with one long stride. Alice and I lock stares; she plunges into her visions, rooting for the thread of the immediate future, while I observe intently.

But we see nothing – nothing that indicates any aggression on Bella's part.

Alice shrugs mentally, and we are both called back to the present moment when Bella inhales a deep, slow breath through her nose, releasing it with her mouth.

"No," she says evenly. "I'm fine." Glancing at the mirror, her gaze flicks over her reflection – then returns to the three of us in less than a second. "It's just…a lot to take in."

_This is…strange. _Jasper's scarred brow puckers as he savors Bella's emotions. _She stemmed off an outburst all on her own; now she's perfectly calm, controlled. No newborn should be able to curb their emotions like that. How on earth is she doing it?_

"I don't know," I say in regard to his puzzled thoughts.

Bella frowns at me, watching through her reflection. "What question did I miss?"

A broad grin lights up my face in the mirror. "Jasper wonders how you're doing it," I tell her.

"Doing what?"

"Controlling your emotions, Bella." Jasper leans sideways, his tall countenance filling the bright glass on Bella's right side, opposite of me. Though he is not looking at her reflection; he stares down at the crown of her dark head, still monitoring her feelings with his unusual gift.

"I've never seen a newborn do that – stop an emotion in its tracks that way," he continues. "You were upset, but when you saw our concern, you reined it in, regained power over yourself. I was prepared to help, but you didn't need it."

She stares at his profile in the mirror anxiously. "Is that wrong?"

"No." _I just don't understand how it is even possible for her to do that. It's not normal. _His thoughts are just as uncertain as his reply.

I stretch out my hand, stroking along her arm from shoulder to wrist. "It's very impressive, Bella, but we don't understand it. We don't know how long it can hold." The barest shiver trembles in the smooth skin under my palm, but the lovely face in the mirror does not change.

Alice points to Bella's reflection with mild impatience. "But what do you think?" she insists.

"I'm not sure," Bella shrugs minutely, her nose scrunching up the tiniest bit. She studies herself again – and raises a hand to her face, touching a pale cheek, and then her full upper lip. The flame-red of her irises blazes with wary concern, like she sees only a stranger in the mirror.

In spite of the fact that I have not tried for many months, I cannot resist the temptation to attempt it one more time. The vain hope that perhaps because she is a vampire, I will be able to hear her thoughts, motivates me to focus my gift, pushing against the thick wall containing her mysterious mind.

There is only silence. As always.

I sigh – a low, forlorn sound.

Bella turns from the mirror to glance at me, one eyebrow cocked. "Disappointed?" she inquires coolly.

A low chuckle quivers in my throat. "Yes," I admit sheepishly, smiling at her.

The porcelain mask completely shatters as shock and then hurt paints her heart-shaped face. Alice snarls – a deep, guttural noise that does not fit her petite, elfin frame – and hurls insults at me inside her head; Jasper tenses, leaning forward, expecting Bella to snap.

I pay no heed to either of them. Wrapping my arms tightly around Bella's frozen body, I pull her into my chest, sweeping her hair aside as I bend down to press my lips to her cheek. "I was rather hoping that I'd be able to hear your mind, now that it is more similar to my own," I clarify in a soft murmur, breathing in her delightful scent as my nose brushes against her skin. "And here I am, as frustrated as ever, wondering what could possibly be going on inside your head."

She thaws at once, relaxing into my embrace. "Oh well," she says flippantly, gazing at me from the corner of her eye. "I guess my brain will never work right. At least I'm pretty."

I growl in her ear; wayward strands of her hair tickle the side of my face. "Bella, you have never been merely _pretty."_

_Edward, please… _Jasper groans at me. _Take her hunting. She's stretched too tight as it is, and it's making me nervous. You're not helping, either, _he adds irritably.

Pulling away from Bella and her intoxicating smell, I heave a sigh. "All right, all right," I mumble to him, closing my eyes briefly. I know exactly what my brother feels emanating from me. I will always want Bella – more than blood, more than anything else in this world or any other. We have not been together since the island, and now that she is no longer restricted by mortality… I choke off that line of thought abruptly. Jasper is right; I need to take Bella hunting. Everything else will happen in due course.

"What?" Bella asks, wondering as with whom I am speaking.

Looking at her ruefully, I say, "You're making Jasper more edgy by the second. He may relax a little when you've hunted."

She shoots a quick glance at Jasper, who continues to watch her worriedly, and then nods at me. "Okay, let's hunt." Bella unwinds my arms from around her waist, and keeps one of my hands tucked firmly in hers. A thread of excitement curls through my brain, causing my nerve endings to tingle. There are so many things that I want to share with my Bella, and now that we are finally on equal ground, all of those experiences are, at last, attainable.

One thing is for certain, I muse to myself, acutely aware of the small, slim hand clasping my fingers, and the delightfully alluring perfume of the alabaster skin that now matches mine.

This will be a night to remember.

--

All characters, references, quotes, and all things related to the Twilight universe are the property of Stephenie Meyer. All spoken dialogue is cited directly from Breaking Dawn, copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 379-406.


	2. First Hunt

As I lead Bella toward the tall rectangular window on the opposite wall from the door, I can feel her slight resistance in the way she grips my hand, and the confusion rolling off of her stiffened form in waves.

Using my free hand, I lift the enormous pane and shove the gossamer curtains aside while giving my wife a wide smirk. "After you." I gesture towards the swatch of cloudy blue-gray sky with a grandiose sweep of an open palm.

Bella stares at me, blank incomprehension on her pale, heart-shaped face, for a full two seconds – which is quite long for a vampire – but of course, she is new, and still adjusting to the sensory overload.

She leans over the window ledge, fingers tightening just noticeably around mine, and the light breeze stirs her dark hair as she gazes at the ground below.

"The window?" she asks incredulously.

I wait until her rounded eyes leave the rock-strewn expanse of lush emerald grass to peer up at me before speaking. "It's the most convenient exit." My smirk softens in order to reassure her, along with my words. "If you're frightened, I can carry you."

Emmett chuckles under his breath, though his mind is not nearly so quiet – my brother's mirth rings like a chorus of low-pitched church bells in my head.

Bella appears not to notice his unsuppressed burst of laughter; though it would not have registered in her human ears, she is surely able to hear it now – but then again, I have no way of knowing for certain without seeming conspicuous – so I decide not to react, keeping my attention solely on Bella.

She fixes me with a dubious, scarlet-colored stare. "We have all eternity, and you're worried about the time it would take to walk to the back door?"

Her way of phrasing is an endless source of entertainment for me. A little thrill races through my nervous system in response to the realization that I now have until the end of time to collect Bella's every word in my ears, storing each one within my infallible memory.

But despite that, I am reminded of the precarious, razor-sharp edge we are now treading between the wild, uncontrollable tendencies of a newborn and the unmistakable lure of two beating hearts sharing this house with a family of vampires.

A frown darkens my tone as I reply implicatively, "Renesmee and Jacob are downstairs…"

"Oh."

Her eyes flash, illuminated by some unknown inner light; I have come to recognize it as an outward sign of Bella's intuition forming a connection in her head, almost like she is fitting together pieces of a puzzle.

I wish that I could experience it with her just once.

The flash behind her crimson irises dies, and her expression twists slightly with concern. "Is Renesmee… okay…with Jacob there?" Her whisper floats just above the breeze rippling the curtains. "He doesn't like her much."

Like her? _That_ is the understatement of the year, just not in the way that Bella perceives. Jacob does not _like_ Renesmee – he is captivated by her, a willing prisoner to her every whim and desire.

No matter how much I try to push it aside, to keep it from staining this moment with my wife, the dog's irrefutable tie to our daughter seeps back into my thoughts like a continuously sour note in a nocturne.

Perhaps I should tell her now. She has as much right, if not more, as me to know just what type of _creature_ is with –

No. Not yet.

I made a promise. And as much as it pains me, I am a man of my word.

Nevertheless, I flatten my lips to fight against the words that threaten to erupt, remarking instead, "Trust me, she is perfectly safe. I know exactly what Jacob is thinking."

"Of course," Bella says quietly, and her gaze drifts back to the ground, a little crease forming in the middle of her eyebrows.

Hoping to distract her from her obvious apprehension, I challenge with a teasing grin, "Stalling?"

"A little." She raises her hand, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear – and I groan inwardly at having missed an excuse to touch her. "I don't know how…" she trails off, eyes flickering to my face, to the cluster of silent figures behind us, and to her formal attire in a handful of seconds.

I squeeze her hand, and gently slip from her grasp. "Watch me."

Placing my feet on the ledge, I throw her a swift smile over my shoulder, and walk out into thin air.  
Like a million times before, the landing is smooth and incredibly easy, just like taking another step on a flat surface rather than jumping out of a two-story window.

Bella's silhouette is visible above me, lingering beside the window frame as though she needs the stability to maintain her balance. She inhales one quick breath, and imitates my fall with perfection.

Except that hers is infinitely more beautiful.

Like a graceful autumn leaf drifting to the earth, her hair and dress swirling around her sinuously like currents of water, Bella floats down to the grass beside me effortlessly. Grinning like an eager child, she declares with confidence, "Right. Easy."

I smile back; I cannot resist the joy behind her expression. And, I know exactly how much what I am about to say will please her. "Bella?"

Her face, tilted up to the window in wonderment, turns toward me in response. "Yes?"

"That was quite graceful – even for a vampire."

It is as if the sun itself shines out from her delighted expression. The description of 'graceful' is never a term Bella, or most anyone else for that matter, would use in reference to any action she performs.  
But what my family and I have just witnessed is nothing short of a prima ballerina executing a flawless leap in the final pas de deux of _Romeo and Juliet_.  
And if that ballerina had been watching, she would have burned with jealousy.

"_Thank_ you," Bella exclaims with profuse gratitude.

She removes the silver stilettos that Alice had insisted she wear – _"They're the only pair that matches the dress, and they're from _Chanel,_ Edward! Do you know how many women would_ kill_ to have these shoes?"_ – and flings them one by one through the open window.

My sister snatches the left shoe in mid-air, just before the five-inch heel burrows into the wood paneling, and snags the right shoe from Jasper's hand. "Her fashion sense hasn't improved as much as her balance," Alice grumbles with disappointment. _But I have plenty of time to convert her to my way of thinking, _she adds mentally._ She'll come around._

Which I sincerely hope is a _very_ long time from now, if ever.

I reach for Bella's hand. Though her skin is the same temperature as mine, our point of contact still sears through me like tongues of white-hot flames, licking at my nerve endings.

_Concentrate, Edward,_ Jasper cautions inside my head, along with my own common sense. Heeding this advice, I push those electric feelings aside – for the moment – and dart towards the river, Bella following my guidance with ease.

We pause on the riverbank, the water sparkling with shimmering, muted tones of jade and topaz under the slate-colored blanket of clouds. Bella, oblivious to the rugged splendor of our surroundings, inquires with bright, excited eyes, "Are we swimming?"

The fleeting image of a dripping wet, dark-haired goddess clad in water-stained satin fills my vision. While I am barely contemplating that intriguing concept, Alice screeches inside my skull, _Edward, don't you dare! That dress is one of a kind!_

Because she is my sister – the only true and empathetic friend I have ever known before I met Bella – I will honor her rather forceful request. But I swear this is the _last_ time I make concessions for Alice's obsession with my wife's attire.

I glance sideways at Bella, offering her a casual half-smile. "And ruin your pretty dress? No." Alice conveys her gratitude excessively with her thoughts; I tune her out after the twentieth repetition of the words 'thank you'.

"We're jumping," I finish explaining, watching Bella's face for clues into the hidden workings of her mind.

She purses her lips – a habit that I find _extremely_ distracting – and studies the width of the river with wary eyes. "You first," she says, lightly pulling her hand from mine.

My fingertips stretch out to brush along her cheekbone, and I force myself to withdraw as a flash of heat sizzles through my being. I stride backwards two paces, sensing Bella's intent gaze on me the entire time as I dash forward and spring across the rushing water, the wind singing in my ears. At the last second, I roll my body into a fluid somersault, landing easily amidst the densely packed foliage on the opposite shore.

"Show-off," Bella mutters under her breath, and a low chuckle escapes from my lips. Through the shards of dim light between the deep green leaves, I watch as she retreats from the water's edge, giving herself far more space than is necessary to make such a simple jump, and takes in a deep breath.

One slender leg arcs forward to begin her first stride, when the sudden noise of fabric tearing causes her to freeze, glancing down at her dress in horror. A long triangle of smooth white skin glistens upon her thigh, and my opinion of Bella's clothing increases dramatically.

Alice groans mentally in dismay while Bella rips the pale blue satin on her other leg, freeing herself from the tight hem. Gritting her teeth, my sister complains bitterly with her thoughts as a cacophony of laughter drifts from the house.

I recognize the dog's throaty, barking chortle echoing beneath the bell-like peals of our family's glee; his mind rises briefly to the forefront of my perception.

_She's still Bella. I guess the bloodsucker was right, after all._

Rolling my eyes towards the heavy clouds, I shake my head with irritation. Jacob is definitely not the brightest dog in the pack.  
I banish his thoughts from my mind instantly, threading quickly through the underbrush, back to the river. "Bella?" I call as I continue forward, "Do you want to watch again?"

She inhales once, and then her feet are bounding across the ground, carrying her into the air like a bird in flight. Stunned surprise ripples through me as she soars by, looking as ethereal as a ghost in the shadowy woods, and I run after her, following the wake of her delighted giggles.

Scanning the nearby trees, I spot Bella's elated, beaming face atop a spruce's wide branch, her bare feet balanced perfectly on the rough bark. As I come to a halt next to the tree trunk, she dives with elegant precision, arriving nimbly at my side with the barest thump. "Was that good?" she questions, breathing rapidly with excitement while her eyes glitter like polished rubies.

"Very good," I answer at once, but my voice seems a little off – saturated with the deep surprise that ambushed me during Bella's first true foray into the physical capabilities of a vampire. I am not certain why it is so astonishing to me – it is not as though I have never seen the unbelievable feats of a newborn, powered by their sheer strength.

No, I think it is because_ this_ particular newborn is my Bella. Bella, who never saw herself as anything other than ordinary – just another face in the crowd – has once again managed to overwhelm a one hundred and ten-year old vampire simply by being herself.

How I ever saw this amazing, exquisite creature as an insignificant little girl is utterly beyond me.

"Can we do it again?" Her voice interrupts my dazed musings, practically trembling with childlike enthusiasm as she leans forward, ready to dash headlong into the forest.

I smother the amused grin that threatens to spread across my face, repeating silently to myself that I am the more mature vampire and I need to keep Bella's concentration fixed on the task at hand.

"Focus, Bella –" I gaze at her from the corner of my eye. She is staring earnestly back towards the river, and my muscles coil reflexively, preparing to catch her should she choose to run "– we're on a hunting trip."

She blinks, and straightens almost instantaneously, throwing me an apologetic wince. "Oh, right." Her head bobs once in agreement. "Hunting."

I cannot bear the crush the waning embers of anticipation lighting up the depths of her eyes, so I take one large, measured step away from her, angling my body towards the deeper shadows of the ancient trees. Grinning at her with the thrill of competition buzzing like an electric current in my brain, I taunt playfully, "Follow me…if you can." And I virtually disappear into a swift sprint, my euphoria urging my legs to pump faster as I detect Bella's footsteps gaining ground behind me.

Her wind chime laughter is intoxicating, along with her unique rain-soaked freesia-and-floral scent, and she runs at my side, her fragrant brown tresses billowing like the tail of a comet.

I purposefully shorten my stride, allowing Bella to seize the lead. She has never been very good at physical activities; she deserves to know that she can now outdistance any Olympic athlete with no difficulty whatsoever.

And besides, I have a much better view from the rear.

Despite my numerous decades of reading, studying various subjects of literature and art, I am unable to find a suitable allusion by which to compare Bella's beauty and gracefulness. Everything good and pure about human Bella has been translated seamlessly into her vampire incarnation: the expressive face, the flash of intuition in her eyes, her quick wit and caring nature – even her smell. All these things and so much more have combined to create the immortal angel racing giddily ahead of me.

And she is _mine._

The surge of desire accompanying that revelation causes me to briefly lose my equilibrium, and I slow even further, the roar of the wind in my ears dulling to a soft hum.

_Get a hold of yourself, Edward,_ I chastise internally, and test the air swirling among the foliage as it filters through my widened nostrils. Recognizing where we are – and just how many miles we have already traveled – I call out dryly, "Bella," and lean against the nearest silver fir.

A full second passes, and then another. Before I can launch myself after her trail, she skips over to my side, face glowing expectantly. I smile, raising an eyebrow. "Did you want to stay in the country? Or were you planning to continue on to Canada this afternoon?"

"This is fine," she responds with casual nonchalance. Her eyes grow warm as her attention flits across my face, lingering momentarily on my mouth… and more than ever, I want to surrender to the tidal wave of yearning that pulls inexorably on my consciousness, narrowing my focus until all that I am aware of is Bella. Bella – my wife, my soul mate – who is no longer breakable… and still smells so mouthwateringly divine…

"What are we hunting?" Her question sends a jolt of reason through my fogged brain, and the burn in my throat flares at the thought of fresh, hot blood.

"Elk," I answer her quietly. "I thought something easy for your first time…" Bella's thickly lashed eyes narrow at the word '_easy'_, and my explanation fades into silence.

She swallows in discomfort, her features distorting slightly from the ache of her thirst, and her stare begins to dart around the small clearing. "Where?" she demands impatiently, the muscles in her limbs stretched taut like piano wires.

"Hold still for a minute," I soothe, and lay my hands gently upon her tense shoulders. Little fizzles of energy dance up my fingers at the sensation of her skin on mine – and judging by the abrupt absence of sound, we both stopped breathing as a result of this one innocent touch.

"Now close your eyes." The tone of my voice is low, husky. Does she notice? I shake myself mentally from the tightening vise grip of lust. I _have_ to stay focused, or the two of us are in serious danger of forgetting all about our hunting trip and moving on to…other activities.

Bella obeys my murmured request, her lavender eyelids glistening faintly in the muted light.  
Because I cannot resist any longer, and to appease the growing hunger that has nothing to do with blood snarling in the pit of my stomach, my palms reach out to lightly frame her face.  
While my thumbs caress her cheeks, stroking back and forth, her breath quickens – and I beat back the swell of emotion by employing the rigid self-control I had developed all throughout our relationship.

_Focus. Concentrate. You are her teacher now, not her husband. Don't let her suffer from the thirst any more._

With this silent mantra repeating endlessly in my head, I instruct her softly, "Listen. What do you hear?"

She frowns, pressing her full lips together into a firm line. After a handful of seconds, her jaw tenses underneath my hands, and I know that she has heard them even as she asks with her eyes still closed, "By the creek, to the northeast?"

A slight, approving smile curves my lips. "Yes. Now…wait for the breeze again and…" The cool wind ruffles the hair tickling my forehead and stirs the leaves of the forest canopy. "What do you smell?"

She takes in a deep, slow breath through her nose; I can see the deliberation on her lovely features as she tastes the air with her enhanced senses, analyzing the various scents being carried by the wind.

Bella's adorable nose wrinkles suddenly. I chuckle warmly at her expression. "I know – it takes some getting used to." Animal blood sates our thirst, but it does not appeal nearly as much as human. The small herd of elk that we have chosen as our prey are quick, easy meals – 'vampire fast food', as Emmett is so fond of saying. But while fast food for a human is sometimes compared to one of the seven deadly sins, a vampire would equate our version to a child being forced to eat a serving of vegetables before leaving the dinner table.

Bella's dark brows arch over her lowered eyelids. "Three?" she guesses hopefully.

"Five," I clarify, after recovering from the distraction of her exhale fanning lightly across my face. "There are two more in the trees behind them."

Her face puckers with uncertainty. "What do I do now?"

"What do you feel like doing?" I counter, grinning broadly.

Her chest rises and falls with another deep breath. The white satiny skin on her throat and bare arms starts to shift, the muscles underneath constricting as her body reacts to the instincts vying for control over her mind. And then the pale eyelids snap open, revealing Bella's intense, fire-colored eyes.

"Don't think about it." Though a dull ache blooms in my chest, I let my palms slip from her face and back away, giving her some room to move. She will hunt, and I will watch – looking after her just like I always have – then, I would see to my own stinging thirst.  
I offer one last suggestion, murmuring solemnly, "Just follow your instincts."

The lingering traces of insecurity vanish from Bella's eyes, masked by a predatory, calculating gleam that I have seen countless times on the well-known faces of my siblings. She heads northeast, as silent and swift as a wraith, and I trail after her, shadowing her every step.

Pausing amid the low-lying ferns at the edge of the clearing, her lithe white body shifts into a crouch; she moves sinuously, like a lioness on the prowl, completely focused on her intended prey. She rises barely a millimeter on the balls of her feet, coiling to spring – when a gust of air from the south slams into us both.

It takes me only a fraction of a second to recognize the scent carried by the wind. The burning sensation in my throat intensifies, like pouring gasoline on an already blazing inferno, and a rush of venom pools on my tongue. A surge of desire races through me, screaming at me to follow that delicious smell to its source, but it is quickly squelched by an icy wave of horror.

Bella alters her course in mid-leap, wheeling towards the south – compelled by the irresistible pull of fresh human blood. She hurls into the forest, leaving a blurred line of muted color in her wake.

Calling myself every foul name I can think of in a variety of languages, I hurry after her, preparing for any number of contingencies. I do not doubt in the slightest that I can catch her – I am the fastest in our family, after all. The problem is that I have no idea how she will react to my pursuit. Her instincts seem to be ruling her consciousness at the moment, but that is only an educated guess.

And there is no way that I can detain a newborn on my own…

Her head turns just a bit. One wild, glowing red eye peers at me from within undulating strands of dark hair, and her pace slows.

Which is the reaction I have been hoping for.

I lengthen my stride, flying across tangled roots and thick clusters of underbrush. Soon, there is less than three feet of space between us.

She spins around, teeth bared, and snarls. The sound is feral, devoid of any rationale – and so unbelievable as it issues from my wife's lips that I freeze for a half-second in shock. A shock that increases briefly as I watch the ferocity in Bella's scarlet orbs dim, chased away by a flicker of surprise.

A soft breeze rustles through the leaves overhead; thankfully, the direction is eastward, and is saturated with nothing more than the rich scent of wet earth and the fragrance of an approaching rainstorm.

The snarl is still twisting Bella's perfect mouth, her body tensed defensively. I remain motionless, my arms raised and slightly stretched forward – ready to restrain her, as much as I am able.

Her fierce expression melts, and her spine straightens almost forcefully, lifting her body out of the low crouch. There is a hint of frightened dismay on her face, and she blinks once, staring at me with wide eyes. I take one slow step towards her and lower my arms. I can tell that she is not breathing.

In that instant, I am not sure which of us is more surprised. She seems to have shocked herself by turning on me instinctually, defending her hunt – and I am stunned by the possibility that she somehow understands what is happening to her, why she was drawn to the scent from the south, and is holding her breath to keep from being tempted to follow.

"I have to get away from here," she growls through her teeth, small hands clenched into tight fists at her sides.

Disbelieving, I feel my jaw drop at her words and the intense look of determination settling into the hard lines of her expression. _"Can_ you leave?" I manage to force out through my frozen lips.

She hesitates for another second, an unspoken question in her gaze – and yet again, one of the constants in my existence pushes its way to the forefront of my mind: _what is she thinking?_

Bella snaps me out of my internal brooding as she rushes past me in a flat-out sprint, heading due north, almost like she is fleeing from the scent of the humans that are most definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I take off after her, keeping her slim form within jumping distance while still giving her space to regain control. Stern admonishments, directed solely at myself, stream continuously through my head. I should have checked the area first before turning Bella loose on a hunt. If she had killed one of those unfortunate people, I and the other members of our family would have forgiven her, chalking it up to the untamed thirst of a newborn vampire. But Bella… she would never forgive herself for stealing another's life, regardless of whether or not the circumstance was beyond her control.

Suddenly, she stops, as motionless as a marble garden statue. In my surprise, I race by; before the wind of my passage has barely stirred the dry leaves on the forest floor I have turned around, skidding to a halt right in front of my wife.

Placing my hands on her shoulders, I gaze unblinking into her bright red eyes. "How did you do that?" I demand, still awash in utter astonishment.

Bella retorts with a question of her own – one that has absolutely nothing to do with the present situation. "You let me beat you before, didn't you?"

I shrug noncommittally, shaking my head. The indignant scowl painting her lovely features in positively adorable – the little kitten who thinks she is a tiger has finally become one – but I refuse to be distracted. So I ask again, "Bella, how did you do it?"

She looks up at me blankly. "Run away? I held my breath."

A trickle of irritation leaks into my brain along with the shock. I swear, one of the main goals of her entire existence must be to find out if she can drive me insane. "But how did you stop hunting?" I spell it out for her, watching her eyes for clues into her mysterious thought processes.

The uncomprehending expression on her face crumples with shame, and her eyes grow wide, pleading. "When you came up behind me…I'm sorry about that."

Every remark that I had been planning to deliver evaporates in that instant, drowned out by the overwhelming _need_ to comfort and reassure her, to make it very plain that none of this is her fault.

I move closer, lightly squeezing her deceptively fragile-looking shoulders, and murmur softly, "Why are you apologizing to _me?_ I'm the one who was horribly careless." I shake my head once, appalled by my own lack of prudence. So much for being the more mature vampire. "I assumed no one would be so far from the trails, but I should have checked first. Such a stupid mistake!" Softening my gaze, I enunciate my next words carefully, hoping that she will take them to heart. _"You_ have nothing to apologize for."

Bella's face is a pale mask of distress. "But I growled at you!" she exclaims, as if that excuses any need for me to apologize for nearly putting her in harm's way – not physically, of course, but emotionally.

A tiny smile quirks one corner of my mouth. Always the martyr, my Bella. "Of course you did," I reassure her gently. "That's only natural. But I can't understand how you ran away." My forehead creases in response to my puzzlement. I know what should have happened: once Bella had picked up the trail, she would have gone after the hikers with single-minded ferocity, and I would have had to restrain her until Emmett or one of the others showed up to help. Alice would surely have seen…

But then, why didn't she try to call me?

Unless…there really _was_ no danger…

"What else could I do?" Bella asks incredulously, her eyes wild with dismay. "It might have been someone I know!"

I had once thought, during my ninety-odd years of existence as a vampire, that the feeling of surprise could no longer touch me. Then this small, beautiful, witty and unpredictable girl had appeared in my world – and surprise became a permanent fixture in my daily routine.

But even then, I considered myself fairly apt at guessing how Bella would react to certain situations, just by my constant observation of her behavior and the ever-changing expressions on her face.

Clearly, that is not the case.

My chest rumbles, and I throw my head back to release a spasm of riotous laughter that echoes among the towering trees. If I should live for a thousand years, I will never grow tired of Bella. She is my sun, forever holding me in orbit around her life-giving light. How foolish I am to think that I could ever predict this force of nature contained within the slender body of the woman before me.

What I _should_ have been able to predict is that Bella is anything but normal. Even for a vampire.

_"Why are you laughing at me?"_

The livid exclamation vibrates through the rough bark of the nearest fir, and my laughter dies immediately. Bella has jerked herself away from my grasp, and glares at me with fists clenched. I watch her warily, even inhaling with slow caution; she seems to recognize the volatility of her emotions and deliberately relaxes her hands, her chest heaving in a deep breath.

I sidle towards her, battling against the urge to smooth a fingertip over her brow in an effort to calm her – I do not know how such an action will be received – and attempt to explain in a quiet voice, "I'm not laughing at you, Bella. I'm laughing because I am in shock. And I am in shock because I am completely amazed." The ghost of a grin flits across my face as I slowly touch her arm, just below the shoulder.

She leans into my caress automatically, her attention locked on my face even as she moves closer, reducing the distance between our bodies. "Why?" she questions, confused.

My hand lightly cups her upper arm, seemingly of its own accord, while I reply with mild amazement, "You shouldn't be able to do any of this. You shouldn't be so…so rational. You shouldn't be able to stand here discussing this with me so calmly and coolly. And, much more than any of that, you should _not_ have been able to break off mid-hunt with the scent of human blood in the air. Even mature vampires have difficulty with that – we're always very careful of where we hunt so as not to put ourselves in the path of temptation."  
I exhale once – a brief rush of air – and stare at Bella wonderingly. "Bella, you're behaving like you're decades rather than days old."

"Oh." She meets my eyes after a moment, the faint shadow of a thoughtful frown marring her forehead, tilting her head slightly to one side.

I frame her face between my palms, feeling a bit lightheaded as her breath wafts into my parted lips, the sweet taste igniting an explosion through every nerve in my body. I murmur longingly, "What I wouldn't give to be able to see into your mind for just this one moment."

She raises her hand; soft fingers trace the lines of my face, brushing along my skin as softly as a moth's wing. I suppress a shudder as she runs a fingertip over my lower lip, her gaze burning into mine.

"I thought I wouldn't feel this way for a long time?" Bella speaks uncertainly, halting. I can scarcely concentrate on her words while her fingers are still touching my mouth, lost in the feel of her caress and the magnetic pull of her body towards mine. Her eyelids lower halfway, looking unintentionally seductive even as she finishes her previous statement with quiet honesty, "But I still _want_ you."

I snap out of the pleasurable stupor that her ministrations lulled me into, and blink at her in shock. "How can you even concentrate on that? Aren't you unbearably thirsty?"

She grimaces, removing her hand from my face, and tries to swallow. The muscles of her throat contract; she winces minutely, and sighs, letting her eyes drift closed. Recognizing that she is trying to focus outward with her senses to locate another suitable quarry, I drop my hands and hold my breath, not wishing to sidetrack her from hunting any more than I already am, apparently.

Bella's eyes flash open, and she pirouettes gracefully to dash eastward. I can pick out several scents that would lead us to possible prey – and, mercifully, none of them are human. So I hang behind her a short distance as we climb a steep slope decorated with sparse groupings of fir trees, marveling at the sheer perfection of her every movement while monitoring the flavors carried by the shifting breeze.

Suddenly, she clambers up the trunk of a silver fir – and I hear the soft thudding of large paws, the rhythmic throbbing of a strong heart. I wait below, pursing my lips in an amused smirk. It is fitting, I suppose, that Bella would stalk my favorite prey for her first hunt. I do not think she even made a conscious choice to go after the lion.

Lifting my chin, I glimpse her motionless silhouette perched above the big cat's position in the boughs, waiting for the right moment to strike. As he prepares to spring upon his own unsuspecting victim, Bella flies through the air and lands directly behind him, causing the branch to quiver.

The lion whirls, exposing his teeth while letting out a piercing roar, and swipes at her with curved black claws. I tense, eyes locked on the wild animal threatening my Bella, and put my weight on my haunches as I judge the distance I would need to leap to place myself between them –

And my common sense catches up with me just as Bella, holding the squirming, enraged lion in her steel-like grip, crashes to the ground on my immediate right. A twinge of worry gnaws at my awareness as I watch her wrestle with the shrieking cat, his claws ripping long gashes in her blue dress while her white skin remains untouched, flawless.

Bella growls involuntarily, pinning the lion to the forest floor, and sinks her teeth into his neck.  
She begins drinking quickly; the lion's struggles grow feebler, and his mindless howling fades into a choking gurgle. He dies soon after – a limp, furred carcass – and Bella pulls away, standing upright in one fluid motion. Scrutinizing her with an observant stare, the desire that I had felt earlier flares white-hot in the pit of my stomach as I take in her disheveled appearance.

Her dark brown tresses are a tangled riot around her face and shoulders; she wipes the back of an arm across her face, smearing away a droplet of blood from the corner of her mouth. The ice blue satin dress is in tatters. One strap stayed intact, but the other hangs in ragged shreds, and leaves a sizeable portion of Bella's décolleté exposed to the late afternoon light. Long stripes of silken flesh are visible on her torso and rib cage; the soft curve of her hip and upper thigh peeks out on one side, and the uneven hem rides high on her left leg, leaving little to the imagination – and I have a photographic memory.

She smoothes her palms over the ruined fabric, glancing down at herself with a rueful expression, and tries to adjust the top half of the dress to cover her chest.

"Hmm." The thoughtful noise slips out as I lounge against a tree trunk, arms crossed casually.

Bella looks up at me. Her cheeks are faintly flushed, and a rosy tint colors her full lips. "I guess I could have done that better," she admits, shrugging helplessly.

"You did perfectly fine," I assure her with a small smile. "It's just that…it was much more difficult for me to watch than it should have been."

Her brows arch in confusion. I gesture absentmindedly with one hand while I explain, "It goes against the grain, letting you wrestle with lions." I have spent the last three years safeguarding this precious woman's life. Now that she is like me, it seems that my protection is no longer required.

But that does not mean that I will stop trying.

"I was having an anxiety attack the whole time," I conclude, my smile tilting into a lopsided smirk.

She returns my smirk, a teasing glint in her crimson eyes as she shakes her head at me, chiding, "Silly."

"I know. Old habits die hard." My gaze rakes over her scantily clothed body, absorbing each intricate detail, and raise an eyebrow. "I like the improvements to your dress, though."

Bella ducks her head bashfully, lowering her eyes. If she were still capable, I am certain that her entire face would be flushed a deep red with embarrassment.  
I wait for the stinging prick of guilt to puncture my silent heart, mourning the loss of her humanity – but it does not come. Instead, my joy at having Bella as a permanent fixture in my world lightens any dark feelings, dulling the self-loathing over my selfishness to a weak ache.

"Why am I still thirsty?" She changes the subject, rescuing me from wallowing in my shadowed thoughts as only she can.

I ensure that my facial expression is once again relaxed and open, and reply simply, "Because you're young." Even I have trouble sometimes with controlling my thirst between hunting trips. Two weeks at most is usually the limit of my self-discipline – in normal conditions. While Bella was pregnant, I did not leave her side for nearly a month, even for the most basic of needs. I knew that it had hurt her to see me suffering…but to depart from her for even one hour would have killed me.

That is all behind us now.

She sighs heavily, pushing out her lower lip in a pout. "And I don't suppose there are any other mountain lions nearby."

Making a mental note to schedule a cross-country hunting expedition for mountain lions in the near future, I lift one shoulder, commenting idly, "Plenty of deer, though."

Her expressive face shapes into the most adorable scowl I have ever seen. "They don't smell as good," she complains, sounding like a sulking child.

"Herbivores." Boring targets, I will admit – and not that appetizing either. "The meat-eaters smell more like humans," I explain quietly.

A peculiar look briefly covers her face, almost like she is…afraid. "Not that much like humans," she disagrees in a low voice, no doubt remembering the smell of the hikers that she went after and the impulses they triggered in her new body.

That fear has no place on my Bella's lovely features. Contemplating a means to erase it, I decide to tease her – a lighthearted attempt to redirect her thinking. "We could go back," I propose solemnly, straightening from my position against the tree trunk. She blinks at me, shocked, and then seems to notice the humor deep within my gaze. "Whoever it was out there, if they were men, they probably wouldn't even mind death if you were the one delivering it." My eyes run over her entire form; she really is quite ravishing, in a macabre way. "In fact, they would think they were already dead and gone to heaven the moment they saw you." Not that I would share this particular image of my wife with anyone. I give her a toothy leer, to which she responds with a snort.

Rolling her eyes, Bella starts trotting off to the southwest, grumbling under her breath, "Let's go hunt some stinking herbivores."

We begin the journey back home, tracking a herd of mule deer along the way. Since I am convinced that Bella is fairly confident in her own hunting skills, I dash from her side and we flank the herd as they try to flee. She tackles a large buck; the pair of them fall into the muddy edges of a creek bed. Chuckling softly, I bring down and drain a younger male, as well as a sizeable doe that happened to leap too close.

I lay the doe's carcass aside and glance sideways. Bella is just finishing with her buck. I press my lips tightly together, stifling a guffaw. Her torn, bloodied, poor excuse for a dress is now embellished with splotches of red-brown mud, and drying streaks of dirt are visible along her right cheekbone, both forearms, and legs.

The deer have gained a short distance from us; I nod my head in that direction, questioning Bella with my eyes. She races to my side, and we take off after the herd in tandem. My thirst still rages, unchecked and scalding in the back of my throat, so I jump onto the glossy back of another doe, the force of my landing severing her spinal column.

After slaking my thirst, the doe's blood warming all the way to my fingertips, I become aware that I am being watched. Straightening, I turn to look at Bella, curiosity awakening inside me as I measure her expression.  
It is a glowing combination of pride, satisfaction, and a desire so apparent that a very different kind of hunger ties all of my internal organs into complicated knots.

But her needs come first, so I ask in a mild tone that belies my convoluted emotions, "No longer thirsty?"

She shrugs, tugging her remaining dress strap back onto the top of her shoulder. My gaze follows her every motion with sharp precision. "You distracted me," she answers, eyeing my spotless garments enviously. "You're much better at it than I am."

I shove my hands in my pockets, ambling over to her. "Centuries of practice," I declare as I come to a stop in front of her, and smile crookedly.

"Just one."

I laugh at her correction. In fact, I have not laughed so much in one afternoon for quite some time. Bella's presence makes all the difference – she is my midnight sun, setting the black void ablaze with golden light and warmth and love. I sweep her tangled, leaf-strewn hair aside, brushing my fingers over her collarbone. "Are you done for today? Or did you want to continue?"

"Done, I think." She lays her free hand on her stomach, palm down, as humans sometimes do when they have had an abundance of food. The smoldering glow of her red irises has dimmed a bit, but it will still be a while before the ghoulish quality completely fades.  
Her eye color does not bother me in the slightest, though it seems to unsettle her a great deal. What matters to me are the thoughts, the feelings, that I catch glimpses of _behind_ those ruby-colored orbs. That is what makes up the real Bella. Everything else is superfluous.

Her palm slides downward, pausing over her lower abdomen, and a look of fierce resolve crosses her face. "I want to see Renesmee," she says firmly.

I reach for her hand, knitting our fingers together. The heat of consumed blood is nothing compared to the flames now shooting up my arm from the sensation. My cautious optimism, brought on by witnessing firsthand that Bella is unlike any other newborn vampire, has increased dramatically. She wants so desperately to see our daughter, to ensure that she is indeed real and alive and safe, and I want to give her that.

The others will be uneasy – and I can just imagine how annoying Jacob will behave – but, as I had told my father yesterday, this is _our_ decision.

Soft, timid fingers brush a feather-light caress along my temple, following the line of my jaw, and effectively banish all conscious thought from my mind. I am vaguely aware of Bella disentangling her other hand from mine, and another set of fingertips delicately stroke the faint shadows beneath my eyes.

I stare at her, unblinking, silently willing her to meet my eyes as she watches the progress of her fingers across my skin, enlivening my entire being to her touch. She lightly traces the outline of my lips, and my breath catches. Her gaze flickers upward – and whatever she sees burning within my expression prompts her to move closer, pressing the slender curves of her body into mine.

I force myself to remain motionless while Bella appears to be testing herself, constantly aware that she is stronger than me and capable of inflicting pain. After an infinitesimal handful of seconds, she rises on her tiptoes, breath quickening, and twines her arms around my neck. Our lips are scant inches apart, and the tip of her nose grazes across my skin.

I lose my failing grip on sanity.

Enveloping her supple figure in my arms, I crush Bella into my chest and cover her mouth with my own feverishly. The first taste of her is like a bolt of lightning piercing through my skull, electrifying my brain and setting every cell in my body on fire. And like an addictive drug, I am instantly craving more.

Her tongue presses against my lower lip; I immediately respond, granting her access, and I feel her fingers twist into my hair, urging me closer. If I could, I would disappear inside her – sink deep into the core of her being and never surface.

The sound of our ragged breathing fills the whole forest, resonating among the trees. One of my hands abandons her waist to cup her face, and I feel dizzy, the world spinning out of control, as she runs her palms over the muscles of my chest. The friction of our kiss carries all the explosive force of an atomic bomb; I have never lost myself so completely – forsaking carefulness and fear – until nothing else exists but pure sensation.

Before I can even understand what is happening, the air is whistling in my eardrums, and I am flat on my back among the fringed ferns. Bella's eyes flash open, wide with alarm, and I start laughing, exuberant, our connected mouths trembling with the force of my mirth.

She withdraws a little, hovering over me with a worried expression. "Oops," she breathes, and I laugh harder. "I didn't mean to tackle you like that. Are you okay?"

I calm down, a smile curving my mouth, and stroke her cheek with the backs of my fingers. "Slightly better than _okay."_ The confession is soft, husky, and fraught with the yearning for more. An abrupt, rational notion occurs to me; my expression rumples, showcasing the puzzlement I am experiencing as I struggle to figure out what Bella wants most at this particular point in time.

From my place beneath her, staring up into her twinkling eyes, her hair falling in a fragrant curtain around us, I would prefer not to go anywhere for several hours.

_She comes first,_ I remind my selfish nature sternly. _Always._

Bearing that in mind, I question her tentatively, "Renesmee?"

She ponders our options for a few moments, resting her weight against me. Ignoring other, more… _aggressive_ impulses, I wrap my arms around her tenderly, rubbing small circles on her back with my hands while she thinks.

Finally, she pushes herself up on her elbows and sighs, gazing at me with a rueful smile. "Renesmee," she consents, and climbs to her feet, pulling me with her. I take her hand, and we fly through the forest as easily as the birds soaring in the treetops above us.

--

All spoken dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_, copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 407–427.


	3. Promised

**Updated 1.6.09: **I want to take just a moment to thank those of you who offered constructive criticism in regards to this chapter. You all have a better understanding of the dynamics of the wolves, especially pertaining to the mental link between pack members. Because of your suggestions (and you know who you are), I have reworked small parts of this chapter so that it fits more easily into canon.

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"Tell me about her," Bella appeals to me earnestly as we travel through the woods under a darkening sky. The clean scent of rain is approaching from the west; it may hold off until we are back at the house.

I envision the phenomenon that is our daughter in my mind's eye, and try to find the words that will somehow illustrate Renesmee's uniqueness to her mother. But no suitable terms are forthcoming. Instead, as the forest streams around us, I murmur softly, "She's like nothing else in the world."

Bella studies my expression, wisps of chocolate-colored hair dancing in front of her scarlet eyes, and pleas for a better description. "How much is she like you? How much like me?" Her mouth twists a little. "Or like I was, anyway."

Smiling, I move my shoulders in an offhand shrug and reply, "It seems a fairly even divide." Though Esme insists that Renesmee favors me more so than Bella – _"Your faces are exactly alike, Edward. I feel as if I am getting a glimpse of what you must have looked like as a child."_ – I believe that our daughter inherited a number of traits, and not all of them merely physical, from _both_ of her parents.

Faint lines appear on Bella's brow as she frowns, deep in thought. Her expression lightens after a moment and she recalls, seemingly pleased that she could dredge up that much from her blurred human memories, "She was warm-blooded."

"Yes. She has a heartbeat, though it runs a little bit faster than a human's. Her temperature is a little bit hotter than usual, too." I immediately push aside the mental reminder that Renesmee's body temperature is only a few degrees cooler than any of the wolves, and continue on before any other unpleasant notions invade this conversation with my wife. "She sleeps."

"Really?" Bella asks in surprise.

"Quite well for a newborn." Not to mention the fact that she succumbs to my singing almost as easily as Bella herself did once – when she still needed sleep. My grin widens, and I shake my head at the incongruity of this entire situation. "The only parents in the world who don't need sleep, and our child already sleeps through the night." A low chuckle escapes from my lips.

Bella returns my smile, and hers is so lovely and content that it disrupts my train of thought. She accused me on many occasions of 'dazzling' her, and other humans, with just a simple glance.

It seems a fair assumption that the tables, figuratively speaking, have turned.

Reclaiming my mental grounding, I resume my brief depiction of Renesmee and pick up where I left off by saying, "She has exactly your color eyes – so that didn't get lost after all." For which I am extremely thankful; gazing into my daughter's warm brown eyes had helped me hold onto my sanity while her mother lay prone, like a corpse, for the last two days.

I give Bella a serene smile while my thumb rubs lazy circles on the top of her hand, intertwined with mine. "They're so beautiful."

"And the vampire parts?" she questions, wide-eyed and avid for more information.

This is the trickier part of Renesmee's genetic makeup, for certain. My father and I have done as much as we possibly can to determine the specific characteristics that she received from my vampiric nature – but at this point, the most we can do is form an educated guess. So, that is what I provide for Bella: the educated guesses, based purely on observation and trial and error.

"Her skin seems about as impenetrable as ours. Not that anyone would dream of testing that." If even the errant thought had crossed anyone's mind, I would have torn them limb from limb.

Bella stares at me, open-mouthed and horrified. I swiftly reassure her, "Of course no one would," and give her hand a brief squeeze. "Her diet… well, she prefers to drink blood. Carlisle continues to try to persuade her to drink some baby formula, too, but she doesn't have much patience with it." My father thinks that the human part of Renesmee's body may suffer from malnutrition if she continues to follow a strictly blood-only regimen, but I disagree. Renesmee is thriving no matter what she is consuming; in fact, drinking blood seems to give her more energy and nourishment than anything else.

My mouth quirks into a lopsided smirk as I remember the first time Carlisle offered her a bottle of baby formula. Renesmee had studied the glutinous, milky substance for several minutes with an almost clinical scrutiny – turning the bottle this way and that in her small hand, a bewildered look on her cherubic face. She then had sniffed a droplet that had escaped from the tip of the rubber nipple, wrinkling her nose while making a positively revolted expression, and had promptly thrown the bottle on the hardwood floor with enough force – proof of her vampire-like strength – that the durable plastic shattered, coating everything and everyone in the room with the sticky, sweet fluid.

"Can't say I blame her," I finish explaining to Bella while reliving the memory of our daughter's rather stubborn stance on her eating habits. And _that,_ she gets from her mother. "Nasty-smelling stuff, even for human food."

Bella's lips are still parted slightly, her face reflecting her obvious bemusement. Speaking very slowly, she remarks, "Persuade her?"

We were coming perilously close to broaching the subject of Renesmee's…unusual talent. While I have no intention of keeping Bella in the dark, there are some things that she needs to experience for herself in order to understand. So, I offer her a semi-informative explanation. "She's intelligent, shockingly so, and progressing at an immense pace. Though she doesn't speak – yet – she communicates quite effectively."

Incredibly, Bella replies even more slowly than before, as if speaking the words at a lengthy pace will somehow make them believable. "Doesn't. Speak. _Yet."_

Taking that as a cue that she may need a bit more time to absorb this, I reduce the speed of our gait, watching her face as she stares at me with a cluttered jumble of emotions sparkling in her eyes. "What do you mean, she communicates effectively?" she demands.

"I think it will be easier for you to…see for yourself," I answer her calmly, hinting with my chosen words – though I do not think she fully comprehends the double meaning. "It's rather difficult to describe."

She appears to consider that for a few seconds, while I tell myself not to feel frustrated that I cannot hear what is going on inside that fascinating mind of hers, and suddenly changes the subject. "Why is Jacob still here? How can he stand it? Why should he?" Bella's voice quivers, just enough for me to notice, and I move a little closer to her. I cannot bear to witness her sadness without doing something to try and alleviate it.

She smothers that sense of compassion by unconsciously fueling my anger with the next question out of her mouth.

"Why should he have to suffer more?"

My teeth come together with a muffled snap as the muscles in my jaw bunch with tension. If it were up to me, Jacob would be long gone; I had lost the frayed threads of my patience with him when he had walked away from Bella during the initial stage of her transformation, convinced that she was dead and would never be coming back.

It was shortly after that he locked stares with newborn Renesmee…altering all of our fates in the process.

Now his presence and shouting thoughts were a near-constant nuisance. Although it is not the same as when the two of us were in competition for Bella's heart – and it _was_ a competition, even if the odds were slightly weighted in my favor – it is this damn imprint that now complicates the camaraderie between us.

I will always be indebted to Jacob Black for what he did, what he was, to my Bella. But I never in my wildest imaginings even considered the possibility that he and I would somehow end up _related._

Suppressing a shudder, I attempt to respond to Bella's questions. "Jacob isn't suffering." My tone is strange, the cadence strained and vaguely hostile. I grit my teeth to keep from snarling as I add, "Though I might be willing to change his condition."

Bella hisses my name, yanking on my arm – and we halt amid a fluttering cloud of dry leaves, thrown into the air by the speed of our passage. She glares up at me, demanding reproachfully, "How can you even say that? Jacob has given up _everything_ to protect us! What I've put him through –!" She abruptly cringes, cutting off her little rant, and I assume that she is remembering all the harsh, spiteful things that Leah had heaped upon her already fragile psyche a week or so ago.

But that is neither here nor there, and my displeasure with the whole business smolders like red-hot coals at the base of my brain, heating all of my thoughts about the dog. "You'll see exactly how can I say that," I mutter under my breath. "I promised him that I would let him explain, but I doubt you'll see it much differently than I do." A truly ludicrous – and unfortunately, entirely plausible – notion enters my head, and my gaze darts over to Bella. Eyeing her speculatively, I muse in a low voice, "Of course, I'm often wrong about your thoughts, aren't I?" I purse my lips, hoping that this one time I am correct in my hypothesis.

She stares at me with blank ruby-red eyes. "Explain what?"

I shake my head. As much as I might want to break my word, I will not dishonor myself in that manner. Besides, Jacob felt certain that I would surrender when Bella asked, since it goes against my very nature to deny her anything. I welcome any excuse to prove him wrong – especially about me or my kind.

"I promised," I tell her, albeit a tad reluctantly. "Though I don't know if I really owe him anything at all anymore…" A grinding noise fills my ears as my teeth grate against one another, and I fight the urge to growl in sheer frustration.

Bella's brow furrows deeply, the corners of her full lips turning downward in annoyance. "Edward," she huffs indignantly, "I don't understand."

Lifting a hand, I lightly stroke her cheek with the tips of my fingers – from the tight skin around her eye to the hard set of her chin. Before I complete the motion, her stern expression vanishes, and the intensity of her scarlet gaze shifts from unyielding stone to liquid fire. I smile gently, pleased with the way that my mere touch can affect Bella's mood, and murmur in a placating tone, "It's harder than you make it look, I know. I remember." Honestly, I am astounded that she has managed to control her temper thus far. She will put the rest of us to shame with her remarkable self-discipline.

She crosses her arms over her chest; the movement does interesting things to the way her ruined dress conceals her upper body, and succeeds in distracting me for a few seconds. Bella, unaware of my ogling, grumbles crossly, "I don't like feeling confused."

"I know. And so let's get you home," I tell her while scanning her provocative appearance with critical, rather than admiring, eyes, "so that you can see for yourself." But I was not about to let my brothers or the wolves get an eyeful of my wife's bare flesh. Call it chauvinistic, but Bella is _mine,_ and this particular image of her belongs to no one else but me. The problem is: how do I make her more presentable?

"Hmm." Frowning, I ponder my options for a fraction of a second, and reach for the buttons on my own shirt. I slip out of the garment quickly and hold it out for Bella to put her arms through, looking at her with mild expectancy.

"That bad?" she asks, assessing her condition again with a brief once-over. I grin at her, and she immediately complies with my wordless request, pushing her small arms through the long sleeves of my white shirt. I cuff the sleeves several times while she buttons it to the hollow at the base of her throat. Her eyes skitter across my exposed chest a few times, and the knot of anticipation in my gut tightens in response.

She invents an excuse to divert our similar lines of thought, challenging, "I'll race you." She points her finger at me and warns, "No throwing the game this time!"

I step about a foot away, aligning parallel with her at an invisible starting line, and grin broadly. If she wants a real race, I will give her a real race. "On your mark…"

Bella launches herself forward like an arrow. I wait a half second and sprint after her, capturing the lead with ease, my legs a blur beneath me. I hear Bella lengthen her stride, trying to use her newborn strength to gain the advantage, and the peaceful burble of the river grows louder in front of us.

Still several yards from the shoreline, Bella leaps, propelling her tiny body across the rippling water. "Ha!" she exclaims in triumph as her bare feet land soundlessly on the opposite side.

Two things happen simultaneously in the following split second of time. As I soar airborne over the river, I hear a pair of distinct sounds – one in my ears, the other in my head. A thudding heart, and the dog's deep, throaty voice rumbling inside my skull. _Edward, I know you can hear me. I'm not letting Bella near her until she proves she can handle herself with me._

Smothering an angry snarl, I alight at Bella's side, fastening my hands in a vise grip around her biceps. "Don't breathe," I urge her with quiet fierceness. She backs into my chest, her breath hitching as she freezes, and we both look towards the figure emerging from the trees ahead.

Jacob has his huge arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight while his dark eyes stare unblinking at Bella. _Huh. She doesn't seem all that different. It's kinda…weird. _He seems bewildered for a moment, but his determination solidifies an instant later. _But she's a bloodsucker now, and she could be dangerous. 'Sides, she can't do that much damage to me._

_I don't like this. _Leah is pacing through the woods on Jacob's right, her ivory teeth gleaming as her large mouth stretches into a grimace. _What if she tries to bite him? Do you realize what'll happen if she does? We can't trust her. She's one of _them_ now!_

_No, Leah – I think it's gonna be okay. _Seth's confident sincerity echoes in his thoughts as he settles beside a towering oak on Jacob's left. _She doesn't seem like the ones we fought in the clearing months ago. They didn't hesitate before attacking; they were like animals. _His sandy-furred head tilts to the side. _Bella seems like…Bella, y'know?_

_I don't like it. Not at all._

Jacob focuses on me for the briefest moment. _I'm just gonna see if she can control her instincts,_ he explains mentally, gauging my response with his sharp black eyes. I can make out his intentions in his mind, and I have to agree with Leah: I don't like it, either.

Fixing a sharp glare on Jacob, I call out, "Carefully, Jacob." There is no disguising the concern in my voice, and Leah snarls as she detects it, her claws raking across the dirt and bracken of the forest floor. "Maybe this isn't the best way –"

He interrupts me, of course. "You think it would be better to let her near the baby first?" Jacob retorts. "It's safer to see how Bella does with me." His broad shoulders lift in a casual shrug. "I heal fast." _This is the best solution. She's not getting any nearer to the house otherwise._

Bella's head whips sideways, looking at me with wide eyes filled with…distress? I look back at her fleetingly, scrutinizing her expression. Does she think that _I_ had something to do with Jacob's intrusive plan?  
I would _never_ hurt her in that way; it will destroy her if she somehow injures the mongrel that has undeservedly earned the privilege of being her best friend.

Jacob throws another thought at me: _If she _is_ still Bella like you said she would be, then maybe she won't _want _to hurt me. There's only one way to find out._

Breaking eye contact with Bella, I glance up at Jacob, scowling with worry while I deliberate. On the one hand, I too want to make absolutely certain that Bella poses no threat to Renesmee – but from what I have seen this afternoon, I am willing to accept on faith alone that our daughter is safe from any harm at her mother's hands. While on the other hand, I am incensed with Jacob, for he obviously cares more about Renesmee's wellbeing than Bella's emotional stability. And he calls himself her friend.

My concern evaporates in the burning glare of my hostility towards the dog, and I shrug one shoulder indifferently. Modulating my tone so as not to alarm Bella, I reply, "It's your neck, I guess."

Leah growls, long and low, like distant thunder – and shouts furiously inside her mind. The words she uses are better left unsaid, so I easily tune her out. Seth is not so fortunate; he cringes the tiniest bit while his sister seethes unchecked inside his head, and tries to concentrate on something else.

_Whatever._ Jacob transfers his black-eyed stare to Bella, and something that he sees on her face causes the rigid cast of his features to soften. _She looks so scared. Like she's afraid she's gonna hurt me or something._

His lips twitch, curving into a genuine smile. I risk a brief glance at Bella. She is still frozen, terrified of what she may or may not do, but there is no mistaking the flash of brighter color in her crimson eyes.

That uncanny intuition of hers has discovered a correlation, linking some unknown event or memory in her cloaked thoughts – and I will drive myself insane if I dwell on it any longer.

Jacob's smile widens, and he shudders dramatically. "I gotta say it, Bells. You're a freak show."

From the very edge of my peripheral vision, I see Bella's cheek lift – and through Jacob's eyes, I watch her face light up with a bright smile.

But I refuse to tolerate any insult directed towards my wife. Growling low in my throat, I advise the dog acerbically, "Watch yourself, mongrel."

A light wind stirs behind us, and Bella sucks in a deep breath of the untainted air gratefully. "No, he's right," she remarks. "The eyes are really something, aren't they?"

"Super-creepy." _They're all glow-y like a freakin' Terminator's. _I barely suppress the urge to roll my eyes over the absurd comparison. Jacob continues by stating verbally, "But it's not as bad as I thought it would be."

Bella snorts. "Gee – thanks for the amazing compliment!"

He rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean. You still look like you – sort of." _But there's more to it than that. The same expressions are there – the same smile – and the sarcasm. _He shakes himself a bit, returning to the conversation. "Maybe it's not the look so much as…you _are_ Bella. I didn't think it would feel like you were still here." _I thought it would be like seeing the dead body of someone I knew laying in a coffin at a wake. Like she was just…an empty shell. But she's still here. _Jacob smiles at her warmly, and chuckles. "Anyway, I guess I'll get used to the eyes soon enough."

"You will?" Bella cocks her head ever so slightly, her tone colored with confusion.

For the smallest piece of a second, Jacob's mind is completely blank. Then, his thoughts sputter to life. _He…he didn't tell her?_ The smile melts from his face, his dark eyes filling with guilt, and I work to maintain my expressionless façade when I want nothing more than to grin at the dog with smug satisfaction.

Despite his antagonistic command that I not tell Bella anything about him imprinting on Renesmee, he had secretly been counting on me to soften the blow, as it were. But now, he will have to face her reaction, whatever it may be, on his own.

This is going to be very entertaining.

His gaze touches mine, and he says quietly, "Thanks." He seems sincere, though his dread over provoking Bella's temper is rising steadily in the back of his mind. "I didn't know if you'd be able to keep it from her, promise or not. Usually, you just give her everything she wants."

The ghost of a smile touches my lips, and I reply truthfully, "Maybe I'm hoping she'll get irritated and rip your head off."

Jacob snorts, convinced that I am merely joking. And I am…partially.

_You'd never let her kill me –_ he retorts mentally –_ no matter how pissed off you are over something neither of us could have prevented. Bella knows how this thing works. She'll understand._

"What's going on?" Bella's head whips back and forth, her eyes darting between Jacob and I. "Are you two keeping secrets from me?" Her voice climbs an octave during her incredulous question, and Jacob winces inwardly.

"I'll explain later," he promises, waving a hand in the air as if trying to banish an unpleasant smell. _Gotta work up to it – think of a good opening… _He shoves all notion of that particular verbal minefield aside and changes the subject. "First, let's get this show on the road." Jacob's grin becomes taunting as he strides purposefully forward, placing one bare foot in front of the other.

Leah whines loudly, and her eyes flash yellow-white as she slinks out from the woods behind Jacob. The light gray fur on her back is standing on end; she pads forward soundlessly, her attention never deviating from Bella.

A half second later, Seth follows suit, mirroring his sister's cautious movements as he flanks Jacob. His gaze flickers between the other members of his pack, Bella, and eventually lands on me. Shaking his massive, sandy-colored head infinitesimally, Seth displays an apparent lack of concern over the situation. In his mind, however, he is a bit nervous that something unfortunate may befall his pack leader, and instinct compels him to act accordingly.

Jacob continues on his path towards Bella and I, not bothering to glance at the wolves while he says, "Cool it, guys. Stay out of this."

Seth and Leah pause briefly, and resume shadowing Jacob's progress at a much slower pace. After all, he did not tell them to stop. Leah lowers herself closer to the ground, the taller blades of grass mingling with strands of thick fur – and Seth's tail twitches uneasily, though his large body remains motionless.

"C'mon, Bells." Jacob stands, feet spread loosely apart, a little less than a yard from us. I can feel the heat radiating from his abnormally warm body, so undoubtedly Bella can as well. "Do your worst," he goads with a slight smile. An angry hiss escapes from Leah's clenched teeth in response.

Bella is like a marble statue under my hands; she has not moved one inch since I told her to stop breathing. There is suddenly a wrenching, painful sensation in my chest as I contemplate the fact that I cannot make this any easier for her to bear. We are what we are, and this is only a small part of our nature that Bella will have to get used to overcoming on her own.

I just hate to see her in pain.

"I'm getting older here, Bella," Jacob protests, looking at her with a bored expression. "Well, not technically, but you get the idea."  
I glare blackly at him while the beginnings of a growl vibrates in the pit of my stomach. He has _no_ idea how hard, how agonizing, this is for her. And still he continues to push – just for the sake of his own assurance that Renesmee will be safe from harm.

As I had told him back in June, during the snowstorm that had tested me in every way, even my seemingly endless patience has its limits. And I am quickly approaching that jagged edge with every passing second.

"Go on," he encourages Bella, "take a whiff."

She looks up at me from the corner of her eye, using what is left of her air to whisper beseechingly, "Hold on to me." She cringes into my chest, pressing the small of her back against my stomach, and my grip tightens around her arms. I feel her muscles tense, locking herself in place…and she inhales one small breath through her nose.

Staring intently at the crown of her dark head, I wait for a reaction – any kind of reaction – while monitoring the thoughts of everyone else along the riverside. Three different angles witness Bella wrinkling her nose ever so slightly, and her diaphragm expands with a deeper, more natural breath.

She relaxes her rigid pose and remarks in a surprised tone, "Huh. I can see what everyone's been going on about. You stink, Jacob."

Exhilarating peals of laughter burst from my mouth. My hands slide from Bella's shoulders and I wrap my arms snugly around her waist, pressing the side of my face into her silky dark hair. From inside the house, the rest of the family snickers in harmony with me – and soon, Seth adds his barking chuckle to the mirthful noise as he ambles a little closer.

_See, I told you, _he declares smugly with his thoughts. _She's Bella._

Leah does not bother to respond; she retreats a number of paces to the shadowy edge of the tree line, her hackles raised in distaste.

Plugging his nose with grossly overdone theatrics, Jacob retorts above the clamor, "Look who's talking." For my benefit, he adds inwardly, _I can't believe I'm going to say this, but…thank you. Thank you for saving her, and for pushing me to give you permission to break the treaty. It's good to have my best friend back._

Though my laughter continues to ring across the lawn, I am touched by his words of gratitude. The emotion behind his statement is genuine, and I can sense the immense relief in his mind as well that Bella has not changed as much as he once feared.

Resting my chin on the top of Bella's shoulder, I try to compose myself, though the occasional chuckle bubbles up in my throat. After a minute or so I turn my head, burying my face in her fragrant tresses

until my lips reach her ear. "I love you." The soft whisper seems to reverberate throughout the area, and Bella leans her head against mine for the briefest moment.

Jacob watches our innocent intimacy with a slight smile; there is not the faintest trace of bitterness or aversion in his eyes or his thoughts. While a part of him may wish that Bella had not sacrificed her humanity, he understands that it was necessary – and it is what she wants. _I_ am what she wants.

There is no greater joy in my existence than that simple knowledge.

Bella lifts her head to look at Jacob, asking impatiently, "Okay, so I passed, right? Now are you going to tell me what this big secret is?"

_Crap. _Jacob's expression crinkles as he winces, and shifts his weight from one foot to the other nervously. "It's nothing you need to worry about this second…" He trails off, at a loss for words.

Emmett cackles from his place on the other side of the south glass wall of the house, his mind full of eager anticipation – and I flinch away from his mental image of Bella ripping Jacob's throat out in a fit of rage after she hears the news.

The dog is right about one thing. Though the vampire in me gains vindictive pleasure from the idea of my mate delivering retribution with violence, I will never allow her to kill anyone. The damage such an act would cause to Bella alone is equal to any cataclysm in the history of the world – not to mention the ripple effect that would spread throughout our family, the city, and La Push.

Bella grows perfectly still in my arms once again. She seems to be staring at her reflection in the windows, but I think she is also listening to the fluttering pulse of the only beating heart inside the house.

That suspicion is confirmed when she murmurs in scarcely a whisper, "Renesmee."

"Come and see," I tell her softly, hugging her slender form. "I know you can handle this."

"You'll help me?" she breathes with quiet anxiety.

I tuck her body into mine, attempting to remove the icy stress from her muscles. "Of course I will."

"And Emmett and Jasper – just in case?"

"We'll take care of you, Bella. Don't worry, we'll be ready." My brothers, especially, are keenly awaiting our arrival. But while Emmett is more excited, like a spectator at a sporting event – Jasper is in full battle mode, completely submerging his consciousness in the emotional climate of every being in the room as he waits to focus solely on Bella.

I smirk to myself at the irony. Six vampires – two of them gifted – worrying over a newborn vampire/human hybrid like a bunch of mother hens. Renesmee is more heavily guarded than the vaults of Fort Knox.

"None of us would risk Renesmee," I reassure Bella, and I can hear the smile in my voice as I explain, "I think you'll be surprised at how entirely she's already wrapped us all around her little fingers. She'll be perfectly safe, no matter what."

Bella starts to thaw, the tension slowly withdrawing from her lithe frame, and I loosen my hold around her waist as she takes a step forward.

A shadow falls across us. _Wait! _Jacob towers over Bella, but his anxious glare is fixed on me. "Are you _sure,_ bloodsucker?" He means it to sound like a demand; it comes out as a gruff plea, and Bella looks up at him with a frown, puzzled by his tone. "I don't like this. Maybe she should wait –"

Straining to preserve the last vestiges of my tolerance, I cut him off smoothly. "You had your test, Jacob."

His jumbled thoughts trip over themselves, each one fighting to be heard, and he blurts out, "But –"

My patience has reached its end. "But nothing," I snap at him in exasperation, moving to stand beside Bella. Jacob actually begins to lean away from my advance, but seems to think better of it and holds his ground, still pleading with his eyes while he struggles to gather his wits.

But I am through with making allowances for his state of mind.

"Bella needs to see_ our_ daughter. Get out of her way." Each syllable is razor-sharp, hard and cold as ice, and will permit no further delay.

_I… _He glances at Bella, a frantic gleam in his brown-black irises. _I can't stay here._ And he spins around and dashes into the house, intent on watching over Renesmee for the duration.

A growl slips out from my lips. The small, beautiful woman next to me is staring ahead of us, ignorant of my unconcealed frustration, her body angling towards the house as though drawn by a magnetic current.

I turn to her, softening my features, and say gently, "Shall we?"

Her eyes dart to mine. Biting down on her lower lip, she nods tremulously. I reach out and claim her hand, winding our fingers together tightly, and lead the way to the south door.

As Bella and I cross the threshold, a torrent of thoughts momentarily overwhelms me. I swiftly dampen the commotion inside my skull, but not before receiving fleeting impressions from each mind in the massive front room – with one exception, of course.

Carlisle is cautiously optimistic. Esme is worried, but also overjoyed. Emmett is the same as always – laid-back and amused. Rosalie is focused on providing the most protection for the little girl in her arms while enduring the close proximity of a werewolf. Jacob is beyond anxious. Jasper is tense, narrowing his concentration until he can pick up on Bella's every flicker of emotion.

Renesmee sends me a picture of Jacob's back, blocking her view; curiosity and impatience flavors her vision as she struggles to lean away from Rose's grasp.

_Edward. _Alice calls my name, and my eyes immediately shift to hers. _It'll be okay, _she assures. Her head is full of quickly changing images of the future as she flips through to locate the most likely possibility.

But she and I both know that Bella's unpredictability, coupled with the 'scrambling' effect of Jacob and Renesmee's presence, makes her visions capricious and unstable.

We will just have to play this by ear.

They all smile welcomingly at Bella – but she is far too observant not to notice their defensive stances, no matter how casual they try to appear.

Her hand abruptly squeezes mine, so tightly that I have to stifle a wince, and I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She is gaping open-mouthed at the tiny, pale face peeking around Jacob's bulky frame.

"I was out just two days?" she asks, incredulous.

Renesmee pushes herself further away from Rosalie, her bronze ringlets swaying around her shoulders, and studies Bella with rapt chocolate brown eyes. I dimly realize that I am holding my breath, and force my lungs to release it. A question forms wordlessly in my daughter's head while repeating her first glimpse of Bella from a few seconds ago, and she raises a hand. Stretching her dimpled fingers in our direction for a moment, she turns back to Rose, laying her palm on her aunt's throat. She shows Rosalie the only memory she has of her mother, comparing it to the dark-haired, red-eyed woman beside me, and wonders if they are the same person.

Rosalie lightly pats the small hand pressing against her skin. "Yes, that's her," she murmurs with a tender smile. Renesmee lowers her hand, her wide-eyed gaze fixed on Bella, and a glittering smile lights up her sweet face.

Bella's hand starts to slip from mine as she takes one tentative step forward – and the room erupts with a flurry of motion. I wrap my hands around the tops of her arms, as I had earlier when Jacob ambushed us by the river, while Emmett and Jasper stand shoulder to shoulder right in front of Bella, braced to restrain her if necessary. My parents are poised on either side of my brothers, Rosalie has retreated to the front door, her arms encircling Renesmee securely, and Jacob places himself in front of them.

"Oh, give her some credit." Alice is the only one who did not move. She crosses her thin arms over her chest, looking at all of us with a chiding expression on her pixie-like face. "She wasn't going to do anything. You'd want a closer look, too." She continues to rebuke me mentally by thinking: _You may not be able to trust my visions right now, but you _do_ trust Bella – don't you? Besides, I _will_ see it if she tries to attack._

"I'm okay," Bella promises with quiet sincerity, reaching up to stroke my hand on her arm. She inhales shakily, and adds, "Keep close, though, just in case."

Jasper narrows his deep gold eyes, reading Bella's emotional state. Her shoulders rise and fall as she takes several deep breaths, and I listen to his mind for a brief moment. _She seems so…unusually calm – and it's just like before. She's _making_ herself relax, almost like she used to when she was human. How is this possible?_

I let go of her arms, confident in Jasper's assessment – though he does not seem so certain. Renesmee's impatience suddenly floods my head, accompanied by a powerful image of Bella's face that temporarily blocks out everyone else's thoughts. She wants to see her mother _now._ The little girl struggles with Rosalie, wriggling in my sister's arms and holding out her hands towards Bella.

"Jazz, Em," I announce firmly, looking at each of them in turn, "let us through. Bella's got this."

"Edward," Jasper begins to contradict my decision. "The risk –"

"Minimal." Hoping to reassure him and the others, and to take advantage of an opportunity to brag about the amazing woman I married, I relay the details of what transpired in the forest. "Listen, Jasper – on the hunt she caught the scent of some hikers who were in the wrong place at the wrong time…"

Carlisle sucks in a sharp breath, reeling with shock. _Did she kill someone?_

Esme's expression clouds with apprehension while her gaze flits to Bella. Her thoughts, however, are deeply compassionate. _Oh, poor Bella. She must be devastated. I will do whatever I can to help her get past this. _  
I would expect nothing less from my devoted mother.

Jasper blinks, his eyes widening. _So she is just like any other newborn, _he surmises inwardly, and nods to himself just noticeably.

_Ugh. _Jacob grimaces darkly, barely suppressing a light shudder of disgust.

Emmett shrugs, totally at ease. _Hey, everybody makes mistakes, right? I'm not gonna hold it against her._

_Can't – get her to – hold – still. _Rosalie is still grappling with an increasingly agitated Renesmee.

None of them seem to remember what happens when you assume.

Save for Alice, naturally, who I already knew would be impossible to fool. _I know she didn't kill anyone, Edward, I saw what happened. _She glares intensely at Bella, dissecting her appearance with narrowed eyes. _And why is she wearing your shirt? What happened to her dress?_

Less than five seconds has passed; my father's piercing stare meets mine, his expression stern. "Edward! How could you be so irresponsible?"

"I know, Carlisle, I know." I sigh a little, raking a hand through my wind-blown hair. "I was just plain stupid. I should have taken the time to make sure we were in a safe zone before I set her loose."

"Edward," Bella mumbles, lowering her head in embarrassment and avoiding the blunt scrutiny of everyone in the room that assumes she actually fed off of a human. Her dark brown tresses tumble forward, hiding the side of her face from my view – a shy habit she has used numerous time since the first day we met.

I brush her hair back over her shoulder, touching her cheek gently with my knuckles. "He's absolutely right to rebuke me, Bella. I made a mistake." Grinning broadly, I tell her with simple honesty, "The fact that you are stronger than anyone I've ever known doesn't change that."

"Tasteful joke, Edward." Alice rolls her eyes, calling me an _'overly dramatic male'_ in her mind.

"I wasn't making a joke," I reply, glancing at my sister. She raises her inky black eyebrows, but is otherwise silent. "I was explaining to Jasper why I know Bella can handle this. It's not my fault everyone jumped to conclusions."

"Wait." Jasper gawks openly at me, undoubtedly sensing my enjoyment in divulging this little tale. "She didn't hunt the humans?"

I smirk mischievously at my brother. "She started to. She was entirely focused on the hunt."

Bella grounds her teeth; she cannot stand to be the center of attention. But this is an aspect of herself – one of many, in my opinion – that should be made known.

Carlisle moves closer, his eyes and mind avid for the rest of the story. "What happened?" he asks, a smile slowly curving his lips.

Leaning forward, I inform him animatedly, "She heard me behind her and reacted defensively. As soon as my pursuit broke into her concentration, she snapped right out of it." Without looking away from my father, I reach for Bella's hand, squeezing it lightly. "I've never seen anything to equal her. She realized at once what was happening, and then…_she held her breath and ran away."_

"Whoa," Emmett mutters in surprise. "Seriously?"

"He's not telling it right." Bella seems more embarrassed than ever, and fidgets a bit. "He left out the part where I growled at him." She scowls, apparently still upset with herself in regard to that involuntary reaction.

Emmett's face brightens with keen interest. "Did ya get in a couple of good swipes?"

"No!" Bella exclaims, horrified. "Of course not."

His expression falls a bit in disappointment. "No, not really? You really didn't attack him?"

"Emmett!" she gripes.

Groaning, he leans away, looking up at the ceiling. "Aw, what a waste. And here you're probably the one person who could take him – since he can't get in your head to cheat – and you had a perfect excuse, too." He exhales dejectedly, like a child denied the chance to watch a schoolyard scuffle. "I've been _dying _to see how he'd do without that advantage."

Bella's scarlet eyes are ablaze, but her voice is icy as she affirms with classic obstinacy, "I would never."

_This is… I can't make any sense out of this. _Jasper is more disturbed than before, and he frowns deeply at Bella while he contemplates this most recent development. _She turns away from the scent of human blood while hunting. She exhibits none of the usual wild mood swings of a newborn. If I didn't know any better… one would suspect that she was still human, or at least a more mature vampire – by three or four decades. This is not normal. …Has this girl _ever_ been normal?_

I plant my fist on his shoulder in a mock punch, disrupting his peculiar line of thought. "You see what I mean?" I grin at him, teasing.

"It's not natural," he mumbles under his breath.

_No more jokes, Edward, _Esme reprimands sharply. _This is still a serious mistake on your part._ "She could have turned on you –" she scolds verbally "– she's only hours old!" Putting her hand on her heart, the gesture of a distressed mother, she quietly bemoans, "Oh, we should have gone with you."

I feel a slight pull on my arm. Bella is straining towards Renesmee, whose small hands are even now stretching out to touch her. Bella lifts her free hand, mimicking our daughter's unspoken plea, and leans around Jasper's body. "Edward." I am instantly heartbroken by the forlorn entreaty shaping her soft voice as she calls my name. It is my one weakness; I am incapable of denying any request she makes of me in that sweetly mournful, broken tone. "Please?" she begs.

Jasper has no intention of moving aside. _She is still a newborn, Edward, _he tells me – as though I have forgotten – _and presents serious danger to any human or half human in the vicinity. I've dealt with this kind of situation thousands of times before; some things don't change._

I am considering the option of making him get out of the way when Alice pipes up quietly, her musical voice ringing within the cavernous room, "Jazz, this isn't anything you've seen before. Trust me."

Jasper turns to meet her clear honey-gold eyes, and feels her calm sincerity. Giving her a small nod, he steps to the side, clearing Bella's way to our daughter. However, he lays one large hand on her shoulder and indicates to me that he will walk with us.

Bella starts forward with deliberate care, pausing after every step across the pale floor. I stay glued to her side, holding her frozen hand in both of mine while Jasper continues to monitor her emotions.

Renesmee is squirming like a wild thing in Rosalie's arms, her tiny hands grasping at the empty space between her and Bella, an angry frown darkening her young face. Suddenly, she parts her rosebud lips and emits a high-pitched wail.

I am the first to arrive at Rosalie's side, though the rest of the family is not far behind. Smoothing my daughter's curls away from her flushed cheek, I murmur comfortingly, "Shh… it's all right, Renesmee…"

Six other hands touch the little girl, seeking to soothe with caresses and soft words, their thoughts awhirl with questions and concerns.

Above the din, Jacob's fretful inquiries echo loudly from the rafters. "What's the matter? Is she hurt? What happened?" He reaches for Renesmee, and Rosalie allows him to remove her from her arms without a qualm – a rarity, for sure.

"No, she's fine," Rose says reassuringly. We all watch as Jacob settles Renesmee in the circle of his arms, and she puts her porcelain hand on his russet-colored cheek. His brows rise in surprise at the image she shares, and she twists around to stretch out toward Bella, who is standing alone in the middle of the room.

"See?" Rosalie remarks pointedly to Jacob. "She just wants Bella."

Bella's crimson eyes are huge, her expression a mixture of shock and longing. "She wants me?" she whispers, staring at the beautiful child she fought so diligently to keep.

I race back to her, placing my hands on her arms, and gently steer her forward. "She's been waiting for you for almost three days," I tell her softly. Though I refused to leave Bella's side during her transformation, I was able to discern through my gift that every few hours, Renesmee would ask whomever she could where the smiling, brown-eyed woman had gone – the one that had sheltered her inside her body. Renesmee's childlike yet intelligent mind constantly worried that she had hurt her mother, who she loves so intensely, when she was struggling to breathe just before her birth.

We walk across the room, our footsteps hitting and leaving the floor in unison. Our family clears a small aisle of space for us, and Jacob tenses visibly as Bella nears, his hands shaking from the effort of resisting the urge to phase. Bella glances up at him warily, but her voice is calm as she vows, "Jake – I'm fine."

He frowns, the thin skin around his eyes tight. _I want to believe her… but…_

Renesmee whimpers, her hands contracting into fists again and again as she waits for Bella to close the last bit of distance between them.

Bella's face is aglow – the blazing happiness lighting up her expression has burned all traces of fear or uncertainty away.

Taking that last step, she grasps Renesmee's tiny form with natural ease, cradling her against her body.  
Jacob does not completely surrender Renesmee to her mother, keeping his hands around her waist, and I bite back an aggravated snarl. Both he and Bella react when their skin touches – hers is like frozen stone to Jacob, and his will undoubtedly feel like an inferno to Bella.

Renesmee seems oblivious to anyone else besides Bella. Smiling brightly, she lifts a hand and puts it on her mother's cheek. My fingers unconsciously tighten on her arms, Jacob inches closer to Bella and Renesmee, and the rest of the room's occupants collectively hold their breath.

Bella gasps, stiffening in surprise as Renesmee shares with her the memory of their first face-to-face meeting. I cringe, my silent heart writhing with dulled agony as Bella's gaunt, sweat-covered and blood-splattered face swims into focus. Her ravaged expression lightens with a tender smile, and her brown eyes sparkle with joy and unshed tears. A second later the image grows larger, and abruptly vanishes.

Renesmee removes her hand from Bella's cheek and dimples, her white teeth gleaming in the light.

Silence blankets the room; all eyes are fixed on Bella and our daughter. I am more than a little surprised that Renesmee was able to use her unusual gift on her mother – Bella is otherwise immune to any talents involving the mind. I have a few theories, and will have to talk them over with my father at a later time. Right now, I want to know what Bella is thinking in the aftermath of experiencing Renesmee's ability.

Another minute or so passes, devoid of any sound but the pair of heartbeats. Finally, Bella chokes out hoarsely, "What…was…_that?"_

"What did you see?" Rosalie peers around Jacob's very much in the way hulk, brimming with curiosity. "What did she show you?"

_"She_ showed me that?"

I breathe into her ear, "I told you it was hard to explain. But effective as means of communications go."

"What was it?" Jacob asks.

Bella's eyelids blink rapidly several times, trying to recover her mental grounding. "Um." She falters, and starts again. "Me. I think. But I looked terrible."

Unable to entirely stifle another wince, I stay close to her, our heads nearly touching, and explain. "It was the only memory she had of you." My voice is rough, and I inhale the heavenly scent of Bella's skin in order to steady my knotted emotions. "She's letting you know that she's made the connection," I convey to her quietly, pleased that I sound more like myself, "that she knows who you are."

Bella turns her head sideways to glance at me. "But _how_ did she do that?"

I smile a bit at her stunned expression. Renesmee notices and smiles in response; a lock of her mother's dark hair is woven through her tiny fingers, and she pulls on it playfully, listening to our voices in contentment.

As for Bella's question, I do not think that there is a vampire in existence that could give her a valid answer. Some things just…_are,_ and cannot be explained. So I offer her a rhetorical solution. "How do I hear thoughts? How does Alice see the future?" I shrug, and state simply, "She's gifted."

Carlisle speaks up from the right side of the group. His mind is abuzz with fresh ideas. "It's an interesting twist. Like she's doing the exact opposite of what you can."

"Interesting," I concur, looking over at him with raised eyebrows. Perhaps this is the perfect time for me to relate to my father the theories that are brewing inside my skull. Bella is fully engrossed with Renesmee – she will not be paying enough attention to retain what I say. "I wonder…" Moving a few inches away from my wife and daughter, I pose an inquiry to Carlisle. "If Renesmee took my talent and flipped it, do you think that's why it works on Bella?"

His face reflects his intense curiosity as he replies, "I noticed that as well. It is strange; no other gift that affects the mind, including yours, is able to reach hers, and yet her daughter can do so with no difficulty whatsoever." He must see something in my expression, for he begins to smile in expectation. "Do you have any idea why or how this is possible?"

"More of a working theory," I tell him. "Well – two, actually."

As I am sharing the particulars of the two theories, I hear Bella murmur softly to Renesmee, "I remember you, too." She lightly presses her lips to the little girl's forehead, and I pause in mid-sentence to fully appreciate the indescribable beauty of this moment.

"She's fine," Alice mumbles to Jasper, who is still hovering over Bella like a hawk circling a rabbit.

"Haven't we experimented enough for one day?" Jacob, who I had nearly forgotten was a part of this reunion, asks in a strained voice. "Okay, Bella's doing great, but let's not push it."

My hands curl into hard fists. Bella bristles, jerking up her chin to glare at Jacob irritably. "What is your _problem,_ Jacob?" She tugs somewhat on Renesmee, trying to pull her away from his hold, but he just moves closer, sandwiching our daughter between their bodies.

I let out a low hiss, returning to Bella's side in a fraction of a second. "Just because I understand," I fling the words at him, "it doesn't mean I won't throw you out, Jacob. Bella's doing extraordinarily well. Don't ruin the moment for her."

Rosalie seethes with vengeful glee, exposing her teeth in a malicious grin. "I'll help him toss you, dog," she vows. "I owe you a good kick in the gut." _Let's do it, Edward. I'm so sick of him and his stench that I could literally puke. That is not an exaggeration._

Jacob ignores Rose's threat, as he always does, his eyes locked on Renesmee. _This is not safe for her – I need to make sure that she's safe, that she's happy… but her being happy doesn't always line up with her safety. She really does seem so happy to be with Bella – I just don't want to lose her because of one stupid mistake. …Would Edward really throw me out?_

While he stares at Renesmee, an unbroken monologue of worried questions and saccharine observations streaming out of his brain, Bella is watching him with a slight frown, faint lines appearing on her forehead as she mulls over his behavior.

And I see it. Her puzzled gaze ignites like a flare, and her face blanches in horrified realization.

"_No!"_ she gasps.

She knows.

Jasper senses the web of control around Bella's emotions start to tear, and he grits his teeth in preparation. _This is it. She's lost her focus – grab her, Edward!_

I wrap my arms around her chest and shoulders, constricting her movement, and pull her body tight against mine. Jacob yanks Renesmee out of her limp hands, his eyes wide as he takes in the feral gleam of bloodlust in her brilliant red glare.

She does not fight me, which is a good sign. It means that she is still cognizant of her actions, and remembers that I promised her that we would take care of her should anything happen. Also, if she really wanted to, she could easily throw me off and kill Jacob before any of the others could restrain her.

Everyone watches her cautiously. Jacob is half-shielding Renesmee with his body, holding her close to his chest. She cranes her neck to see her mother, bewildered by the sudden change in the room's atmosphere.

Bella's eyes do not stray from him or our daughter. I feel her muscles grow taut under her skin, and she speaks with measured precision through clenched teeth, "Rose. Take Renesmee."

_Gladly. _Rosalie opens her arms, and Jacob passes Renesmee to her immediately. They both back away – Jacob towards the front door, and Rosalie heads over to Emmett. He angles himself in front of her, not bothering to hide the pleased smirk on his face.

_I've got this one in the bag, _he exults inwardly. _Jazz shouldn't have changed his bet at the last minute._

I almost roll my eyes despite the obvious stress of the present circumstance. My brothers and their absurd fondness for gambling.

"Edward," Bella calls my name in the same edgy, deliberate tone. "I don't want to hurt you, so please let go of me."

I hesitate, tilting my head to see her livid face in profile. She_ seems_ reasonable enough. My eyes flash to the dog, whose expression resembles that of the proverbial deer caught in the headlights. The tiny, nasty voice in the back of my brain encourages me to yield to Bella's request – let her deal with Jacob in the way that I wish I could.

But Jacob is not the only vulnerability in the room, and whether I like it or not, Renesmee has grown attached to him. If I agree to let Bella unleash the full force of her anger on him while in full view of our daughter… it will not go well at all.

Bella seems to realize this, too. "Go stand in front of Renesmee," she suggests.

I begin to loosen my grip around her upper body. _You wouldn't. _Jacob glowers at me for half a second, risking that bit of time to divert his attention from Bella.

Meeting his eyes with a level stare, I drop my arms and take one step away from Bella. Before she reacts, I am across the room beside Emmett, positioning myself in front of Renesmee as she had requested.

Slanting her elegant body into a low crouch, Bella stalks toward Jacob, her full lips curling over her teeth. "You didn't," she snarls in a deadly tone.

He raises his hands in surrender, palms out, and slowly backs away. Trying to appeal to her common sense, he implores, "You know it's not something I can control."

"You _stupid mutt!"_ Bella explodes. Her furious shriek startles Renesmee; she presses her hand to the bare skin of my back, uncertainty and alarm coating her replay of the last few seconds. Rosalie pulls her away from me as Bella continues shouting at Jacob. "How _could_ you? _My baby!"_

He skitters backward – out the front door and down the porch steps – calling to her anxiously, "It wasn't my idea, Bella!"

She is right behind him, a lioness on the prowl, fingers curled into claws at her sides. "I've held her all of _one _time, and already you think you have some moronic wolfy claim on her? She's _mine."_

Jacob dashes across the lawn to the fringe of the woods on the far side. "I can share," he pleads.

_Brilliant choice of words, wolf, _Alice demeans inside her head, sighing exasperatedly.

We trail after Bella, heading to various spots outside. I follow my wife through the swaying grass, ready to intervene if she becomes too violent – and I purse my lips to disguise the smile that threatens to break across my face. Rosalie remains on the porch with Renesmee, along with Carlisle and Esme, who watch the unfolding scene with deep concern. Alice perches herself on the porch railing, swinging her legs over the side like a child. My brothers stroll behind me, and Emmett announces smugly to Jasper, "Pay up." He holds out an open palm, grinning. Jasper exhales heavily, slapping a roll of bills into Emmett's huge hand.

"How dare you_ imprint_ on my baby?" Bella's shrill howl echoes loudly among the trees, a murderous glint in her ruby-colored eyes. "Have you lost your mind?"

"It was involuntary!" Jacob withdraws to the shadows of the forest.

Seth and Leah appear on either side of him, parting through the underbrush with their massive bodies. Leah inches forward while Seth lingers beside Jacob, tracking Bella's progression, and snaps at her when she gets within ten feet of the small pack. _I never liked her. I swear I'll bite her head off if she comes any closer, treaty or no treaty._

Bella glances at the light gray wolf, recognizing the challenge, and lets out a ferocious snarl that slices through the moist air like a blade. Her advance falters for a fleeting instant, but she does not stop.

I watch Leah intently, edging sideways on Bella's left, preparing to defend her if necessary from the brash female werewolf.

_Do _not_ get in my way, leech, _she hisses menacingly.

"Bella, would you try to listen for just a second?" Jacob begs, spreading his arms out wide in supplication. "Please?" Eyeing the confrontation brewing between me and his second-in-command, he adds firmly, "Leah, back off."

She shows her teeth, long tail twitching spastically, and stays in place. I do not move either, but Leah no longer needs my attention; she will not attack now unless ordered to do so. Therefore, I turn my back on her and gaze at Bella, noting abstractly how stunning she looks when she is angry – like a rampaging goddess from ancient mythology.

"Why should I listen?" she sneers at Jacob, rocking forward on the balls of her feet.

His expression is reminiscent of a neglected puppy, and I do believe that I have made that comparison before. He speaks to Bella insistently, the words spilling out of him. "Because you're the one who told me this. Do you remember? You said we belonged in each other's lives, right? That we were family. You said that was how you and I were supposed to be. So…now we are. It's what you wanted."

Her glare seems to catch fire. "You think you'll be part of my family as my _son-in-law!"_ She ascends two octaves within her infuriated scream.

Emmett chortles gleefully. _I knew she'd be more fun as a vampire._

Esme clutches Carlisle's arm and leans over the porch railing. "Stop her, Edward," she murmurs in trepidation. "She'll be unhappy if she hurts him."

I am not certain if I can agree with her on that point. Bella has shown remarkable self-control thus far – all she is doing at the moment is giving the dog a well-deserved tongue-lashing. Besides, I am close enough to their argument to avert any hostility.

And I am enjoying myself far too much to interrupt.

Coinciding with Esme's appeal, Jacob responds to Bella by clarifying hastily, "No! How can you even look at it that way? She's just a baby, for crying out loud!" _What does she think I am, anyway? _he thinks in dismay. _I don't see her that way at all!_

Bella stomps her foot, yelling, "That's my _point!"_

Jacob's face scrunches up, his own temper flaring, and bellows back at her, "You know I don't think of her that way! Do you think Edward would have let me live this long if I did?"

The answer to that question is a resounding _'no'._

"All I want is for her to be safe and happy – is that so bad?" Jacob throws his arms up in the air, exasperated. "So different from what you want?"

An irate, high-pitched growl rips through Bella's teeth, like she is incapable of speech because of her rage. My father's thoughts enter my mind, infused with flabbergasted awe. _If I were not witnessing it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it. No newborn has ever been able to restrain themselves the way that Bella is right now._

I turn to look at him, commenting with a proud half-smile, "Amazing, isn't she?"

Carlisle nods his head in a daze. "She hasn't gone for his throat even once," he murmurs in agreement.

Jasper stares meaningfully at Emmett, and holds out his hand, palm up. Emmett sighs, reluctant, and digs into his jeans pocket. "Fine," he mutters, "you win this one." He hands over the roll of money that Jasper had just given him, shaking his head in defeat.

Bella finally regains the use of her cognitive processes, commanding ominously to Jacob, "You're going to stay away from her."

Blatant dread covers his face, bleaching the russet skin to a faded red-brown. "I can't do that!" he chokes out.

_"Try,"_ she orders vehemently. "Starting _now."_

Jacob shakes his head wildly in denial. "It's not possible." His dark eyes suddenly light up, as if some wonderful idea has just come to him. I listen to it before he speaks – and I have to admit, it makes sense. I had drawn a similar conclusion shortly after being informed of the imprint. Nevertheless, my understanding does not compel me to always act with sensitivity.

"Do you remember how much you wanted me around three days ago?" he asks Bella. "How hard it was to be apart from each other? That's gone for you now, isn't it?"

Bella straightens a little, cocking her head to the side ever so slightly. Her blistering stare has not cooled.

"That was her." Jacob lifts his chin in triumph, sure of his logic. "From the very beginning. We had to be together, even then."

She appears to consider his reasoning, the seconds ticking by… and she sinks back into a crouch, balancing her weight on her haunches. "Run away while you still can," she advises darkly.

He lets out a sharp breath. "C'mon, Bells! Nessie likes me, too."

Bella freezes, halting in mid-breath, her red eyes widening in disbelief. I stop breathing as well, watching her face anxiously, and the rest of our family is as silent as statues around the clearing.

I could kick myself for being so thoughtless. I should have possessed the foresight to warn Bella about that silly nickname Jacob came up with for Renesmee. Maybe if I had primed her a bit more, had a little more time for her to get used to it…

_Uh-oh. _Alice pierces the silence with a barely audible gasp that accompanies her mental remark.

Bella's rigid pose quivers, and she inhales slowly through her nose. _"What…"_ she growls, "did you call her?"

Jacob acknowledges his error too late, backing up another step, and cringes sheepishly. "Well…" He starts mumbling in a low voice, which Bella will have no trouble hearing, "that name you came up with is kind of a mouthful and –"

And Bella does not look like Bella anymore. She is a vampire – a very _angry_ vampire – who has just succeeded in cornering her prey.

With a feral crimson gaze that promises death, she coils to spring, shrieking, "You nicknamed my daughter after the _Loch Ness Monster?"_ She soars through the air, hands raised like the talons of a raptor, and lunges for Jacob's throat.

I wait one second too long to react. A mistake that I will regret for the remainder of my existence.

------------

The majority of spoken dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_, copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 428–451.


	4. Memories

_"No!"_

More than one voice, aloud or mentally, shouts the same one-word refusal. And in my failure to act only a second earlier, a huge mass of fur the color of desert sand leaps directly into Bella's path – preventing her from reaching Jacob.

With a noise like the crash of thunder, vampire and werewolf collide. A sickening crack reverberates across the clearing, and the sandy-colored wolf's body shudders in agony.  
Seth Clearwater crumples onto the gray-green lawn, a low whine hissing through his clenched teeth. Bella recovers her balance immediately, landing lithely on her feet, and stares at the wolf lying in front of her in absolute horror.

Internally utilizing a vocabulary that would make even the most hardened sailor blush, Leah lets loose a vicious howl and bounds forward, heading straight for Bella with lethal madness in her dark eyes.

I cross the short distance separating me from Bella in a blurred sprint. The enraged werewolf charging us appears to move in slow motion as I grab Bella's wrist, tugging her behind my body – and face Leah head-on, crouching defensively.

Five pairs of swift, hushed footsteps echo behind me. Emmett and Jasper take flanking positions on either side of Bella and I; Alice joins her mate a beat later – though her ocher eyes, brimming with apology, are on me.

Simultaneous with my siblings' arrival, Jacob, his stare locked on his fallen pack brother, throws out a russet-skinned arm and bars Leah's way. "Stand down, Leah!" he booms, the command ringing with the unmatched authority of an Alpha.

Leah skids to a halt, her claws kicking up torn blades of grass and dirt clods. Her long muzzle is wrinkled in a snarl, and the cords of muscle beneath her silvery coat are taut with strain, as though she is physically fighting against Jacob's order. Her thoughts are beyond human reason; all that registers is flashes of emotion and her brother's name, repeating continuously amidst the sudden blasts of fury and anguish.

Carlisle and Esme have reached the group; Esme lingers beside Emmett, her slim hands clasped together worriedly, while Carlisle walks cautiously over to Seth. Looking only at Jacob, he says quietly, "I will need to treat his injuries immediately." Jacob nods – a quick jerk of his head – as he keeps his attention focused on his irate second-in-command.

My father kneels, laying a palm on Seth's large, warm shoulder. He whimpers in response, and I see Carlisle grimace in sympathy.

A strangled yowl erupts from Leah's throat, and she feints to the side, searching for some type of opening to attack. Jacob turns and, gazing intently into her wild eyes, states slowly, each syllable hard and unyielding, "I said – _Stand. Down."_

The snarl begins to fade from the gray wolf's long face as she holds Jacob's stare for a tense moment, though the low, unbroken sound of a growl ripples within her chest.

Leah hunkers down on the ground an instant later – a visual demonstration of her compliance to her chosen pack's leader, and her mind reverts back to that of a very protective and frightened older sister.

_Seth, Seth! Is he okay? Did she bite him? Oh please, no – I can't lose him too! Seth! Seth, answer me! Please!_

One round brown eye the size of a baseball cracks open. _Jeez, get a grip, Leah. I'm fine. 'S nothing… I've had worse…_

Carlisle bends down so that he can look Seth in the eye and instructs calmly, "Seth, you'll need to phase back so that I can repair the damage before it heals incorrectly."

The Quileute teen that is my friend calls my name mentally – truly, he has grown remarkably accustomed to my gift – and thinks: _Ask him how bad it is._

"Seth wants to know how bad his injuries are," I say to my father in a soft, hurried tone.

"Nothing too extensive." Carlisle offers the young werewolf a kind smile. "You've got a dislocated shoulder and a fractured shoulder blade, as near as I can tell. And there may be a crack in your collarbone, too, but I'm not one hundred percent certain yet."

I feel Bella tremble under my grip around her wrist, and risk a quick glance over my shoulder. Her lovely features are twisted with deep remorse, her eyes shimmering in the most peculiar way – almost like she would be crying, if such a reaction were available to a vampire.

"C'mon, kid." Jacob lowers his arm and joins Carlisle at Seth's side. "Let's find you some privacy."

Seth struggles to his feet and shakes himself, gritting his teeth to suppress the pain while he tries to appear nonchalant in an effort to reassure Leah and the others. He limps off to the fringe of forest bordering the house with Jacob at his side, vanishing into the thick underbrush.

Once Seth's long tail is completely engulfed by the shadows, Alice flits to my side. "I'm so sorry, Edward," she breathes, contrite. "If I had been able to see clearly –"

"Don't blame yourself, Alice," I interrupt her gently.

A piercing howl shatters the brief quiet blanketing the clearing, and Bella's trembling increases exponentially. In one fluid motion I pull her closer, releasing her wrist, and wind an arm around her waist. She does not look at me – her eyes remain fixed on the trees, anticipating Seth and Jacob's return.

Not thirty seconds later, two figures emerge from the woods. Jacob is supporting Seth's gangly frame as they stagger along, and my father rushes forward to assist. "We'll take him inside," Carlisle states with his typical calm composure, and the unlikely trio make their way to the front door.

As they pass, Bella startles me by unexpectedly freeing herself from my tight embrace and approaching the slow-moving group. Carlisle and Jacob both tense – but Seth merely takes in the expression on her face, the corners of his mouth turning up in a tiny smile. "'S okay, Bella. No big deal," he tells her softly, the sincerity in his tone impossible to deny. "I've had worse, believe me." His smile broadens a bit.

"Seth." Bella's musical voice shivers in the air, saturated with guilt. "I didn't… I mean, I –"

"Don't worry about it."

"We really need to get him inside," Jacob remarks, urging Seth forward with a light shove. He avoids Bella's gaze as she tilts her head to look at him, and he and Carlisle half-carry the young man across the lawn and up the porch stairs, watched by nine pairs of unblinking eyes.

Bella wraps her thin arms tightly around herself, a tremor racing through her slender body. Stepping forward, I lay my palm on the small of her back, murmuring, "Bella?"

She spins on heel to face me and exclaims in desperation, "Edward! Oh, Edward, I'm so sorry! I tried to control myself, I really did! I was just so _angry…_ And now Seth is – it's all my fault!"

"No, love." I place two fingers lightly over her full lips, stopping her from verbalizing any more unnecessary apologies. "This is not your fault. You've been amazing in regard to your self-control; I am the one who let things get too far out of hand."

"But I –" she mumbles under my touch. I hush her by applying a little more pressure with my fingertips, and tenderly kiss her forehead. The anxiety burning in the depths of her crimson irises wanes in response, but does not disappear, and she lifts her hand to move mine away from her mouth.  
"I want to go inside and talk to him," she declares firmly. I can detect the motivation behind her words, though. She wants to offer herself up as the scapegoat for Seth's injuries, convinced that there is no one else to blame for her actions.

So utterly, infuriatingly selfless, my Bella.

"That's probably a good idea," Alice agrees before I can speak. She catches my eye and shifts her gaze meaningfully towards Leah, who has begun to pace back and forth along an invisible boundary line through the middle of the lawn. _I know I don't have to tell you how being blind worries me, _my sister remarks inwardly. _But I think it would be best if Bella keeps out of Leah's sight for a while._

I lower my eyelids briefly, switching to the wordless mode of communication that Alice and I had contrived over our years together, and reach for Bella's hand. "Then let's go inside," I reply. Bella glances up at me gratefully, giving my hand a squeeze, and we walk together back to the house.

As we near the shaded porch, Bella sucks in a startled breath and her eyes dart wildly from side to side. "Where's –?"

"Rose took Renesmee around to the back," I answer her unfinished question soothingly. Holding the front door open for her, I allow Bella to breeze past, still linked to me by our joined hands, and lead the way into the front room.

Seth is sprawling comfortably on the white sofa, his right arm propped up by several throw pillows. I can tell even from across the room that the normally straight line of his shoulders is quirked at an odd angle. My father is rummaging around in the storage cabinet in his office, gathering the needed materials to make a splint for Seth's arm.

Surprisingly – and yet, not so surprising – Jacob is nowhere to be seen.

Seth's youthful face brightens with a grin when he catches sight of Bella and I, and waves with his uninjured arm. "Hey, guys." He tilts his head towards the right, indicating the display of his broken bones, and jokes, "So much for keeping the drama to a minimum, huh?"

"Seth…" Bella is sitting on the sofa beside him in less than a second, wearing a heartbreakingly repentant expression. Tentatively, she reaches out and very lightly touches the top of his left hand with her fingertips. Seth does not even flinch at the frigid temperature of her skin – he simply looks at her with patient, kind eyes.

Bella starts to murmur, "I am so very –"

"It's fine, Bella. Honest." Seth's lips flex into a gentle smile. "The Doc's gonna fix me up and I'll be back to normal – well, normal for _me_ – in no time. Everything is cool."

Bella opens her mouth to try again, so I swiftly make my way over to the sofa and settle down beside her while directing my words to Seth. "You moved more quickly than even I anticipated, Seth. If anyone needs to apologize, it should be me. I'm sorry."

_Not you, too… _Seth moans in his thoughts. _I swear – I'm okay. _Then, a mischievous gleam sparkles in his black-brown gaze, and he remarks teasingly, "More quickly than you anticipated? Does that mean that _I_ took Edward Cullen by surprise? Now _that's_ something to brag about."

"The first and last time that will ever happen," I guarantee, offering him a crooked smile.

Bella shoots me a frustrated look, her lips pursed in that terribly distracting pout, and just as she begins to speak, Carlisle approaches and says, "All right, Seth." He lays the pieces of splint on a low coffee table and pulls over a chair from the dining room. Picking up the young man's arm from the pillows, he inquires seriously, "Are you ready?"

Seth manages to shrug, despite his mangled shoulder. "As ready as I'll ever be."

I wrap an arm around Bella's shoulders and pull her closer to my side, knowing what is coming. She glances at me curiously, and looks back at Seth just in time to see him screw up his features in pain as Carlisle resets his shoulder in its proper position.

Bella gasps, the agony on her face a near-perfect replica of Seth's hurt-filled expression, and I rub her arm tenderly. "'S okay, Bella…" Seth grits his teeth, forcing himself to ignore the blazing sting in his nerves as my father begins to apply the splint. "Like I said – I've had worse." He chuckles once; the sound is strained and uneven, but I pretend not to notice for Bella's sake. "A good thing the treaty's still solid, or we'd be having an all-out monster mash right about now."

"What about the treaty?" Bella jerks upright in her seat, looking from me to Seth and back again with wide eyes.

Seth and I lock stares briefly. _Do you want me to tell her? _  
I incline my head just slightly, acceding control of this discussion over to him.

He returns his attention to Bella and explains while Carlisle fits the main part of the brace on his upper arm. "The stuff that happened between us and Sam's pack, it's all settled now. We don't have to worry about any vampire-werewolf wars. Renesmee took care of that."

Bella whispers in shock, "How?"

"Packs have laws, you know – lines that we can't cross under any circumstances," Seth continues on in a low, solemn voice. "And the most important of those laws is that no wolf can ever kill the object of another wolf's imprinting. Besides destroying a brother, the death of an imprint would harm the pack as a whole. The act is unforgivable, and the wolves involved have to fight to the death."

A tiny, almost imperceptible rush of air flows through Bella's parted lips. Seth appears not to notice, his eyes faraway as he mentions quietly, "It happened once. A long time ago. It was an accident; none of us would do something like that on purpose." He focuses back on Bella's widened stare, giving her a cheery grin. "So that's one less thing for you to worry about."

"But what about my transformation? Wouldn't that have violated the treaty?"

My turn now. Using my other hand, I softly cup Bella's chin and turn her face to mine. "I took care of that three days ago, right before Renesmee's birth," I inform her, my gaze dancing across her bewildered expression. "I asked Jacob for his consent to change you, and he agreed. As Ephraim Black's heir, he is the only one who has that right – even Sam cannot dispute it."

It is yet another reason why I have allowed Jacob to remain in close proximity with my daughter. I owe him for the precious gift of this angel sitting beside me, for granting his permission to keep her for eternity without the threat of retribution hanging over our heads.

"Oh." Bella seems perturbed about something, her mouth distorting into a small frown.

As I am about to ask my favorite question in regard to Bella's shrouded thoughts, Rosalie enters from the kitchen, carrying a white plastic cup sealed with a drinking lid.

Bella leaps to her feet. "Renesmee?"

"Outside. With _him."_ Rose makes a face, which on her is still nauseatingly beautiful. Her expression softens a moment later and she says, "We think it's best if she is kept away from you until your emotions are fully under control. One hundred percent under control."

I growl at my sister. "That's hardly fair, Rosalie. Bella has shown more control in the last two hours than some vampires have in two decades. She is not a danger to Renesmee."

But Rosalie is adamant. "Be that as it may, her safety is the number one priority." Her butterscotch eyes drift over to Bella, and she seems almost…sympathetic. "I'm sure that Bella understands." _She was willing to sacrifice herself for Nessie; she'll wait until we can be certain that she won't hurt the baby._

Rosalie opens the front door while completing that particular thought, and I start to call after her, determined to have my say in this so-called mutual agreement – after all, Renesmee is _my_ daughter too – but Bella lays her palm on my chest, stilling my tongue. "No, it's all right, Edward. I want to be one hundred percent sure that I'm over my temper tantrum –" she pulls an adorable face, scrunching up her nose, and I smile in spite of my foul mood "– before I see her again."

I slowly shake my head, and touch the tip of her nose with a finger. "How could anyone ever see you as something dangerous?" I muse quietly.

She grins lopsidedly, and I realize with a start that she is wearing _my_ smile. "You did," she reminds me playfully. "If I recall correctly…you thought that I was dangerous enough to run away from, and went into hiding in Alaska for two days to boost your courage." She waggles her eyebrows at me like a vaudeville comedian.

Carlisle is vaguely surprised that Bella can joke so blithely about our first meeting, a moment that my strict self-discipline very nearly cracked when I caught the luscious scent of her blood, but does not show any outward reaction.

Seth is totally bemused by the turn in our conversation and tries to distract himself from the twinges of discomfort by singing one of his favorite songs in his head.

"Well," I lean towards Bella, my lips brushing against her earlobe, "we can be grateful that my bravery…or recklessness…was stronger than my fear."

The hand resting on my chest slides upward, and small fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck. A shudder travels along my spine as Bella turns her head to breathe into my ear, "I am."

My willpower is nearly reduced to frayed shreds. I am not far off from scrapping the entire surprise and taking my wife to our meadow – and not be seen or heard from until morning, at the earliest.

Thankfully – because I am quite convinced that Alice would kill me if I ruined her fun – the phone rings, and my arms freeze halfway through the motion of collecting Bella's slender frame.

She moves away reluctantly, letting out a tiny sigh. I smile at her while reaching for the cordless receiver sitting on the end table, and look at the number on the caller I.D. _"Swan, Charles."_

I feel my eyes tighten; Bella reads whatever emotion is scarcely visible on my face with her uncanny perception and asks, "Who is it?"

Wordlessly, I hold up the phone so she can see the number flashing on the screen. Her eyes grow large, and fill with sorrow an instant later. I toss the phone aside and put my arm around her, tucking her into my side. We all act as if we cannot hear the incessant trilling, and after eight or nine rings, Charlie hangs up.

Bella deliberately rotates her body to face Seth – an attempt to divert her attention, I guess – and questions, "How did things get cleared up with Sam? Did Jacob talk to him?" She hesitates a fraction of a second before saying his name, but I am not sure if anyone else detected it.

"Yeah." Seth nods eagerly, glad that she gave him something else to think about instead of the pain. "That's how we found out that Jake and Sam can talk to each other when they're in wolf form. It's pretty cool, actually – though it's not the same as being connected to a pack. It's more like…speaking out loud. Jake only hears what Sam wants him to hear, and the same goes for Sam when he listens to Jake. Distance is not a problem, either; they've been experimenting." Carlisle adjusts a section of the brace, and Seth pauses to smother a groan. Bella, as stubborn as ever, tries to ask for forgiveness, but Seth ignores her. "Anyways, after those two got to talking," he goes on, "Sam agreed to come back here with Jacob and talk to Carlisle." He throws a quick grin at my father, who smiles faintly in response without looking up from his work. "And the rest is history."

The phone rings again. Bella stiffens beside me, though the fascinated expression on her face does not change, and I turn off the ringer on the receiver. Seth surveys the nearly completed splint encasing his wounded arm, his black eyebrows arcing high on his forehead. "Mom would flip if she saw me like this," he comments with mild amusement. His keen gaze suddenly flashes up to peer out of the enormous windows, no doubt to watch the ceaseless pacing of the light gray wolf by the river, and he cringes. "Leah's flipping out enough for the both of them, I think."

"I'm so sorry, Seth." I know that he does not want any apologies, but I deeply regret that he was harmed due to my self-centered indulgence in allowing Bella to take her anger out on Jacob. "I should have been closer."

_Stupid mutt – it's my turn! _"Give her to me…Jacob." Rosalie, outside on the porch, grits out Jacob's name through her teeth like an expletive.

_Not this time, blondie. _"You already had a turn," Jacob retorts, hugging an impatient Renesmee to his broad chest. He makes a grab for the bottle, but Rose snatches it away, promising him a gruesome and painful demise in her mind.

Bella pulls my attention from their petty squabble by speaking hesitantly, "Seth, I –"

At this point, Seth and I have had our fill of her needless, partial confessions. In tandem, we interrupt her yet again.

"Don't worry about it, Bella, I'm totally fine," Seth declares.

I murmur to her gently, "Bella, love, no one is judging you. You're doing so well." Though her ranting was classic; I thoroughly enjoyed the look of absolute panic on the dog's face as Bella stalked him across the lawn, shrieking with unbridled rage. I smirk to myself, remembering how he had accused me with his eyes and his thoughts when I had set her loose.

I do have to give him credit, however, for not phasing when she came at him. He knows that such an action would have triggered Bella's basest survival instincts and prompted a fight – besides the fact that I would have had no choice but to kill him for threatening my Bella. After all, I have my own survival instincts, and it is undeniable that she is essential to my survival.

_Perhaps you should let her make amends, Edward, _Carlisle suggests to me with his thoughts while fitting another piece to the brace on Seth's shoulder. The young man winces at the movement.

"Sorry, sorry!" Bella mumbles hastily, persevering in her efforts to say sorry. I softly stroke her arm, hoping to convey to her with the gesture that she has no reason to feel guilty.

Seth pats her knee companionably with his free hand. "Don't freak, Bella. I'll be back to normal in half an hour. Anyone would have done the same, what with Jake and Ness –" He cuts off as I warn him with my eyes, and switches to a different topic. "I mean, at least you didn't bite me or anything." His mouth twists into a slight frown. "That would've sucked."

Brushing her hair aside, I whisper in a low, hushed tone, "The wolves don't react to vampire venom the same way as humans. Instead of causing pain…it is poison to them."

Bella buries her face in her hands, hunching over, and shivers uncontrollably for several seconds. Her obvious emotional distress plunges into my unbeating heart like a knife – an echo of her pain – and I rub her back tenderly.

"I'm a bad person," she mutters, her voice contorted with misery.

I cannot allow her to endure any more suffering, not when the cause is something that I should have prevented. "Of course you aren't." No one is more virtuous than Bella, and I fully intend to keep her that way for the rest of her existence. The blame deserves to stay squarely on my shoulders. "I should have –"

"Stop that," she sighs wearily.

I fall silent, remembering what she had said to me the morning after we returned from Italy. _"I know it's your…your nature to shoulder the blame for everything, but you really can't let that make you go to such extremes!"_

Seth studies my expressionless face, Bella's bowed head, and feels compelled to breach the awkward quiet. "Lucky thing Ness – Renesmee's not venomous. 'Cause she bites Jake all the time."

Bella drops her hands and sits upright. "She does?"

"Sure." She stares at him, open-mouthed, and he grins broadly. "Whenever he and Rose don't get dinner in her mouth fast enough. Rose thinks it's pretty hilarious."

Bella's shocked expression twitches, the corners of her lips rising the tiniest bit – but the hint of glee vanishes an instant later when my father stands and steps away from the sofa.

"Well, Seth, I think that's as much as I can do. Try not to move for, oh, a few hours, I guess." He chuckles under his breath, and I feel myself smiling in response. "I wish treating humans were this instantaneously gratifying." Carlisle begins to round the curve of the sofa to head around the back, and pauses briefly to lay his hand on the crown of Seth's head. "Stay still."  
He ascends the staircase, closing the door to his office behind him.

Seth rotates his neck, the bones cricking from the motion. "I can probably manage sitting still for a while," he comments, the end of his sentence disappearing into an enormous yawn. Leaning his head carefully against the top of the plush sofa, his heavy eyelids fall closed – and he is out like a light in mere seconds.

Bella watches him with a slight frown for a minute or so, mulling some thought over in her secretive mind; she stands fluidly then, and my palm slides from her back. Treading across the room on noiseless bare feet, she moves less than half a dozen steps from the sofa before I feel compelled to follow, unwilling to allow the smallest distance to separate us.

She stops by the back windows, looking out into the approaching twilight with a thoughtful expression. As has swiftly become the norm, I take her hand in mine.

"Give her to me, dog! Unless you _want_ to get bitten again?"

"Did you ever go to kindergarten and learn to take turns? Or is your head really full of air?"

My chest expands in a silent, annoyed sigh. Rose and Jake are still bickering like children. Renesmee is not doing much better in maintaining a complacent attitude than I am – she is quite hungry, and I think she has inherited my mercurial temperament.

_Where the hell is Seth? The bloodsucker doctor should have finished patching him up ages ago. What if he's worse off than he let on? Would they tell me? …No. No one tells me anything. …Oh, if I ever get the chance to take out that little leech-lover – I swear I'm gonna –_

I block out Leah's hostile thoughts at that point; like Jacob, she creates vivid mental pictures, and I am concerned that something she might unconsciously show me in regard to harming my reason for being may force me to commit an involuntary, violent act.

_Edward. _Alice sends an image of the house, as it can be seen from across the river. Immediately, my sharp eyes distinguish her petite figure beside the trunk of a bristly spruce. _Esme, Emmett, and I are going hunting, _she informs me. _When we get back, we'll show Bella her surprise. So don't cheat. _She streaks off into the forest to join Emmett and Esme.

"Where's Alice going?"

I glance at Bella, blinking in surprise – and I recall a half-second later that her vision is now just as crisp and attentive as mine; of course she saw our sister's departure. "Hunting," I reply. "Esme and Emmett went with her. They'll be back in a few hours."

She nods once, seeming to gaze beyond her reflection in the polished glass and into her own contemplations. I tell myself not to brood over it, listening instead to snatches of internal dialogue emanating from Jasper – who elected to stay behind and keep an eye on Bella as inconspicuously as possible, and is currently lounging against the newel post – while the quarrel out front grows steadily in volume, along with the participants' infuriated thoughts.

The nearly indiscernible stiffening of the tendons in Bella's slim hand is my only warning prior to Jasper remarking mentally: _She's becoming incredibly tense. I wonder what's got her so worried?_

Speaking up from his place beneath the staircase, he asks quietly, "What's the matter, Bella? No one is angry with you" – Leah scoffs inside her head and growls, the menacing sound echoing across the riverside – "or even surprised, really," Jasper talks over the wolf's vehement disagreement as though it did not occur. "Well, I suppose we _are_ surprised. Surprised that you were able to snap out of it so quickly." He offers her an understated smile – a brief flex of his lips. "You did well. Better than anyone expects of you."

A deep sense of tranquility blankets the room, generated by Jasper's unique talent, and the hand clasped within my own relaxes as Bella turns around to look at him. "I was thinking about Charlie, actually," she admits hesitantly.

The childish squabbling out on the porch abruptly stops, like turning off a radio.

"Ah," Jasper murmurs. _So that's it. I knew this would come up sooner or later – she loves her father very much. She already misses him._

My eyes seek out Bella's face, staring at her profile while she fixes her attention solely on Jasper. "We really have to leave, don't we?" she says in a low voice, and it is not so much a question as a resigned statement. "For a while, at the very least. Pretend we're in Atlanta or something."

My brother can feel her muted sadness, and transmits it to me through his thoughts. I too, wish that we did not have to leave our home here, that Bella could have a few more moments with the man who loves her unconditionally and almost as fiercely as I do… but it is not possible.

Yet one more sacrifice Bella has to make for me.

I know that she has no regrets, but that knowledge does not lessen the bittersweet tang of remorse flavoring my emotions.

_Stop feeling guilty, Edward. You know this was her choice __–_Jasper berates me even as he answers Bella in his usual serious manner, "Yes. It's the only way to protect your father."

She remains motionless for several minutes, her forehead creasing as her mouth shapes itself into a glum frown. "I'm going to miss him so much." Lowering her eyes, she gazes at the floor and confesses in a tone just above a whisper, "I'll miss everyone here."

Wishing to alleviate some of her melancholy, I caress the back of her hand with the pad of my thumb, and she eventually raises her head and turns back to the windows. The shrouded expanse of sky visible above the treetops is changing from steely gray to smoky amethyst as the day hovers on the verge of night.

Bella appears to be reflecting on a specific matter while keeping a firm grasp on my hand, the faint purple-blue light of dusk creating a soft sheen on her alabaster skin – and my mind wanders to a time at the beginning of our relationship. We were sitting in my car, parked in her father's driveway…

"_It's twilight," I observed broodingly, looking out the window at the darkening sky._

_I could feel Bella's curious gaze on me, so I turned to her and clarified, "It's the safest time of day for us. The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way…the end of another day, the return of the night." Losing myself for a brief eternity in the warm depths of her brown eyes – this angelic creature that deserved to freely live in a world full of sunshine, a world without monsters like me – I offered her a faint smile. "Darkness is so predictable, don't you think?"_

_She frowned, bothered by my sudden despondency. __"I like the night," she declared.  
I could immediately tell from her tone that she was being completely truthful. And I wondered – maybe she was not as addicted to the sun as I had once thought.  
The image of her slumbering form being overtaken by the shadows abruptly surfaced in my thoughts, accompanied by swirling visions of the future that Alice had seen continuously for the last few weeks: Bella, white and hard as polished marble, looking at me with wide scarlet eyes. I shoved it aside, focusing on her rose-tinted face and the scent that made my throat flame as she explained her fondness of night. "Without the __dark__, we'd never see the stars." Her lips pursed into a pout. "Not that you seen them much here."_

_Such simple, beautiful candor. I had to laugh as my mood shifted from sullen gloom to buoyant amusement just by listening to Bella. She had so much power over me – neither of us had fully realized the lengths I would go to in order to preserve the radiant innocence of this fragile human girl that I loved._

_Part of me was afraid to explore those bounds, for I was not yet strong enough to leave her – leave her to protect her from a dark future, from losing her precious soul…from myself. Leave her because I loved her.  
I was beginning to doubt if I would _ever_ be that strong._

_I didn't _want_ to be. Ever._

Unexpectedly, Bella lets out at derisive snort, wrenching me away from the memory. I tilt my head sideways to examine her facial expression, arching an eyebrow questioningly. She meets my gaze and shakes her head once, wordlessly telling me not to worry about it.

My free hand balls into a fist at my side as I fight off the internal burst of frustration – a common side effect when Bella chooses to keep her thoughts from me.

At that precise moment, light shuffling noises can be heard from the front porch and Bella perks up, looking expectantly at the doorway. I notice absently that Rosalie must have won the argument or Jacob just got fed up with her attitude, because Renesmee is resting comfortably in her arms. Jasper is at Bella's side before they cross the threshold, and Carlisle comes down the staircase holding his measuring tape and scale as Leah sits down right outside the windows to watch with a complete lack of interest.

"Must be six," I remark, almost to myself. I had not really noticed how the time was passing.

"So?" Bella asks. Her eyes are locked on our daughter, who is wearing a bored yet compliant expression. Rose and Jacob have similar wary thoughts as we go through this exercise once more – and even though Jasper is tempering the anxiety that is starting to fill the room, I feel a raw chill descend upon me, my nerve endings tingling with apprehension.

It seems that only Carlisle is able to hold onto his peaceful demeanor as he answers Bella. "Time to measure Ness – er, Renesmee."

Bella's eyebrows come together in puzzlement. "Oh. You do this every day?"

Carlisle motions for Rosalie, Renesmee, and Jacob to make their way over to the sofa, where Seth sleeps on, unaware. Renesmee's tiny shoulders rise and fall with a sigh as Rose crosses the floor, and my father corrects Bella's assumption in a preoccupied tone, "Four times a day."

"Four times? Every day?" Bella is like a statue beside me, frozen in surprise. Eyes widening, she splutters, _"Why?"_

I squeeze her limp hand and murmur quietly, "She's still growing quickly."

Renesmee's growth rate was unbelievable, to say the least. Carlisle and I have been trying to come up with any research material that could help us determine what will happen to her, but we have had little or no success. The best information we have is sketchy details from cultural legends and our own gathered data from the last three days.

I wrap an arm around Bella's waist, gently tugging her body to rest against mine, and cling to her as though she is my anchor in a brutal storm. I feel like a tiny ship, battered by the angry ocean waves, my mind drowning in the agonizing notion that if Renesmee continues to mature at an accelerated pace…

Turning my head slightly, I press the side of my face into Bella's silken tresses, using her distinct fragrance as an antidote for my despair.

All of us look on in silence as Carlisle stretches the measuring tape along Renesmee's body; she helps him by extending her limbs and keeping very still while he loops the tape around her skull.

Jacob's burning black stare does not stray from her for one second. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest as he watches, standing next to the armrest on Seth's side of the sofa, worrying inwardly about Renesmee and complaining that he hates feeling so helpless.

Jasper interprets the sudden spike of horror in Bella's emotions, and it registers in his mind at the same time that she whispers to me, "What do we do?"

My hold around her intensifies. I knew that she would come to the same conclusion that Carlisle and I had after that first day of taking measurements. Bella is far too perceptive, even more so as a vampire, to not put together the pieces in her head.

But I do not have a suitable answer to give her. All I can do is reply in a strained undertone, "I don't know."

Jacob grounds out through his teeth, "It's slowing." _She's gonna be fine. I have to believe that._

"We'll need several more days of measurements to track the trend, Jacob," Carlisle warns him softly while measuring the width of Renesmee's torso. "I can't make any promises."

Jacob declares loudly in an effort to reassure himself as much as everyone else, "Yesterday she grew two inches. Today it's less."

I am inclined to agree – the differences in Renesmee's physical attributes are far subtler than they have been in the recent past. But none of us know what it means to her life as a whole, and the lack of a solution is taking its toll on the entire family.

Carlisle unwinds the tape from my daughter's shoulders, mentioning his findings in a low voice, "By a thirty-second of an inch, if my measurements are perfect."

_"Be_ perfect, Doc." Jacob sounds almost threatening, and Rosalie stiffens in response – but I can identify the dim undercurrent of panic in both his words and his thoughts.

My father of course, given his three and half centuries of compassionate aid to those in need, understands Jacob's unspoken concern. He promises the dog, "You know I'll do my best."

He heaves a deep breath, more acquiescent than comforted. "Guess that's all I can ask," Jacob mutters, shifting his feet a bit on the hardwood floor.

A splash of irritation erupts from the small brunette locked in my arms, but it is swiftly overpowered by the impatience rising up within the three-day old enigma on the sofa. Renesmee holds up a tiny palm, reaching toward Rosalie, and my sister leans closer so that their skin makes contact.

The crystalline image of Bella projects into our minds, along with an imperious flavor to Renesmee's mental demand: she expects to be handed over to her mother straight away.

Rose sighs. _All she wants now is Bella. It's to be expected, I suppose, but I wish… _She chokes off that thought before I pick up on it, although I can probably guess how it would end. All Rosalie had ever wanted as a human was a prestigious marriage and beautiful children. By becoming Renesmee's caretaker – one of many, in fact – she has achieved a small piece of that deep-seated wish.

She knows, though, or can at least appreciate, that any child needs to be with their parents. As much as she wants to keep Renesmee to herself, she loves her enough to give her what she wants.

And in that love, Rosalie is truly selfless.

"What does she want?" Jacob barks.

Rose shoots him a poisonous glare, but manages to reply civilly, "Bella, of course." Directing her attention to the woman in question, Rosalie's icy features thaw and she asks, "How are you?"

"Worried," Bella admits huskily. My embrace tightens instinctively, reacting to the emotion coloring her tone of voice, and she curls willingly into my side.

"We all are," Rosalie agrees, her sharp eyes scrutinizing Bella's face. "But that's not what I meant."

Bella squares her shoulders and lifts up her chin, promising to everyone in the room, "I'm in control."

I do not doubt her in the slightest, so I unwind my arms from around her slender frame and give her a little space as Rose approaches with Renesmee in tow. Jacob is gnawing on his lower lip while he watches but does not try to stop them, and Jasper lingers by Bella's side to monitor the stability of her feelings.

Rosalie's jaw is taut as she offers Renesmee to Bella; the little girl reaches for her mother at the exact same time that Bella extends her arms to receive her. As soon as she is settled, Renesmee puts her hand on Bella's cheek.

She gasps, not as used to the sensation of Renesmee's shared memories as much as the rest of us, but is otherwise perfectly calm. Through our daughter's eyes, we see a graceful dark-haired predator flying above the ground like an avenging angel, en route to a defenseless Jacob, whose hands are raised in front of him in a vain attempt to deflect her attack.

A flicker of amusement wells up inside me while viewing this particular incident again, and I chuckle softly.

Then a dark blur collides with the soaring angel, a loud crack reverberating in the air, and both Bella and I wince in response.

Renesmee smiles her wide, glittering smile, the memory continuing on with Jacob as the focal point. The image is tinged with the flavor of possessiveness, as all of Renesmee's thoughts are when she concentrates on the dog. As young as she is strictly in terms of actual existence, her mind is mature enough to understand the bond that has formed between them and is glad that Jacob had not been hurt. He belongs to her.

Bella, it seems, has gained a similar impression from our daughter's memories. Groaning to herself, she grumbles with displeasure, "Oh, wonderful. Perfect."

My own annoyance flares in partnership with hers, and I try to assure her by remarking stiffly, "It's just because he tastes better than the rest of us."

"I told you she likes me, too," Jacob teases from across the room. Despite his tense stance and restless mental ramblings, he is still able to behave enough like his old self.  
Bella notices, and looks at him as though searching his expression for some unknown sign that their relationship has survived her self-named 'temper tantrum'. He does not remove his gaze from Renesmee, but there is a barely discernible trace of caring that smoothes the hardened facets of his deep-set black eyes.

At one time, the clear evidence of Bella and Jacob's strong friendship that is on display would have awakened the murderous green-eyed monster called jealousy in my silent chest, spinning fearsome tales in my ear of Bella leaving me to be with him… but no longer. Though there will always be a part of her that I can never know because it remains with Jacob – she is _my_ wife, she bore _my_ child, and she chose to trade her humanity for an eternal existence with me.

Renesmee, irked by her mother's divided attention, pats Bella's face impatiently and reveals more of her vivid recollections: Rosalie brushing her long bronze-colored ringlets, Carlisle measuring her…

Smirking with enjoyment, I lower my head to murmur in Bella's ear, "It looks like she's going to give you a rundown of everything you missed."

The next visualization that spills from Renesmee's mind causes a white-hot jolt of alarm to ignite within my brain. Dimly, I catch sight of my wife's expression, her nose wrinkling in painful recognition – as I whisk our daughter out of her arms and hold her against me securely. Jasper reads my emotional state, and once Renesmee is safely out of the way, he pins Bella's arms behind her back in anticipation of a violent response to the temptation that the little girl unwittingly subjected her to.

Bella does not struggle, although I am sure that she could easily break my brother's hold. Staring at me in wide-eyed confusion, she asks, "What did I do?"

I lock eyes with Jasper, listening as he interprets her feelings. All that is present is the confusion, which is evident on her face, and a lingering hint of burning agony, originating in the back of her throat.

My gaze shifts back to Bella; I feel my forehead crease as I mutter uncertainly, "But she was remembering being thirsty. She was remembering the taste of human blood." The words are faltering, hesitant – and I start to feel a bit foolish. Perhaps I am once again guilty of overreaction.

Jasper wrenches her arms further behind her back. His scarred features are just as marred by perplexity as my own face, which is reflected in Renesmee's startled consciousness.

Bella merely continues to stare at me, uncomprehending. "Yes," she accedes with my comment, angling her head slightly to one side. "And?"

I frown at her for a second – and then it melts into a grin as I realize that again I have made the mistake of underestimating her. Letting out one short, amazed laugh, I reply, "And nothing at all, it seems. The overreaction is mine this time. Jazz," I nod at my brother, "let her go."

He complies, releasing the vise grip around Bella's arms, his thoughts a swirling vortex of conflicting ideas and memories. _I don't – I can't – this is not how it's supposed to be. Newborns are not to be reasoned with – they are irrational, instinct-driven killers. I dealt with them for over eight decades; this is not how it should work._

The instant Jasper lets go, Bella reaches out for Renesmee, and I pass her to her mother without a qualm while keeping close tabs on Jasper's chaotic thoughts.

Quite suddenly, he blurts, "I can't understand. I can't bear this."

He strides out of the back door, snarled lines of thought blasting from his mind as he retreats. Leah pads away from the house to give him a wide berth, and all of us watch in varying degrees of bewilderment as Jasper leaps over the river and vanishes into the forest.

Renesmee touches Bella's neck and replays her uncle's departure questioningly. Bella gives a faint shrug, staring after Jasper – and in unison, the two most important people in my life turn to look at me.

Wearing the exact same inquisitive expression, the resemblance between mother and daughter is uncanny, and the sheer loveliness gazing back at me from their heart-shaped faces steals my breath away. Figuratively speaking, of course.

"He'll be back," I tell both of them. Remembering snatches of my brother's disordered thoughts, I suppress an amused grin while adding, "He just needs a moment alone to readjust his perspective on life."

Bella looks aside thoughtfully for a moment, and then her eyes slide over to mine. I find that I am unable to accurately decipher the emotions on her face, because she seems almost…troubled.

She asks me in a low voice, "Is he mad at me?"

Surprise widens my eyes, and I blink at her, taken aback. What is she thinking? Why in the world would Jasper be mad at her?  
"No," I answer at once. "Why would he be?"

"What's the matter with him, then?" she counters with another question. She seems desperate to understand, and also yearning for validation that his strange behavior is not her fault.

Stepping closer, I soften my expression and lightly brush a wayward strand of rich brown hair from her temple. "He's upset with himself, not you, Bella," I assure her gently. "He's worrying about…self-fulfilling prophecy, I suppose you could say."

"How so?" Carlisle speaks up, walking over to us from the other side of the room.

I direct my gaze at him, though I am talking to Bella, as well. I sense her eyes on my face while I reply to my father, "He's wondering if the newborn madness is really as difficult as we've always thought, or if, with the right focus and attitude, anyone could do as well as Bella." I gesture towards her with an open palm and then go on. "Even now – perhaps he only has such difficulty because he believes it's natural and unavoidable. Maybe if he expected more of himself, he would rise to those expectations." Glancing at my wife, I offer her a proud smile. "You're making him question a lot of deep-rooted assumptions, Bella."

Carlisle folds his arms across his chest, disputing in a mild tone, "But that's unfair. Everyone is different; everyone has their own challenges." _Jasper should not compare himself to Bella – they each had a _very_ different introduction to our world, _he silently points out. His thoughts become more speculative as he hypothesizes, "Perhaps what Bella is doing goes beyond the natural. Maybe this is her gift, so to speak."

Bella freezes at my side, her face blank in astonishment. Renesmee feels the change in her mother's hold around her small body and touches Bella's jaw line, remembering the last second wonderingly.

I suppose that my father could have a valid line of reasoning. It does seem highly unusual that Bella is capable of adjusting as a newborn with hardly any problems in controlling her heightened senses and potent instincts.

"That's an interesting theory," I comment, deep in thought, "and quite plausible."

Bella's expression crumples very faintly, looking somehow dissatisfied, and then brightens with hope. Though I cannot hear her thoughts, I am willing to bet that I know exactly what she is thinking about – her father, Charlie.

If Carlisle is correct, and she does have some extraordinary self-control, it would be safe for her to see him again. In spite of the fact that the scent of Charlie's blood would cause her throat to burn with thirst, she would have no trouble repressing the primal urge to kill him.

A quiet sigh puffs out from between her full lips, and the light in her crimson irises begins to wane. I suspect that the stark reality that she is physically not the daughter Charlie remembers has put a damper on her optimism. I know that she is afraid of his reaction, whether it is disappointment or fear or some combination of the two, and will decide to wait until she is more comfortable with her new self before showing up on her father's doorstep.

If I were speaking these suppositions aloud, Bella would surely accuse me of reading her mind – which she already knows that I cannot do, as much as I may want to. And I would give her the same explanation that I offered a few months back: I have lots of practice reading her face.

To distract myself from pursuing a conversation with Bella that would reveal her thoughts and confirm my suspicions, I pose a question to Carlisle. "Have you ever seen an equivalent to self-control as a talent? Do you really think that's a gift, or just a product of all her preparation?"

He shrugs. "It's slightly similar to what Siobhan has always been able to do, though she wouldn't call it a gift."

Rosalie enters the discussion by interjecting curiously, "Siobhan, your friend in that Irish coven? I wasn't aware that she did anything special. I thought it was Maggie who was talented in that bunch."

"Yes, Siobhan thinks that same," Carlisle says, his eyes flicking briefly over to Rose. "But she has this way of deciding her goals and then almost…" he pauses for a second, searching for the right descriptive word. _"Willing_ them into reality."

My interest is piqued by his explanation. I have never met Siobhan or her coven, but my father has always spoken very highly of her and he does not reserve that opinion for just anyone.

Carlisle goes on by recounting, his gaze distant, "She considers it good planning, but I've always wondered if it was something more. When she included Maggie, for instance. Liam was very territorial, but Siobhan wanted it to work out, and so it did."

The three of us move over to the loose grouping of chairs at the west end of the front room and continue our conversation in regard to subtle talents.

As I settle into an overstuffed antique chair that Esme rescued from a decrepit estate three or four decades ago, I see Jacob take the empty place on the sofa beside Seth from the corner of my eye. Plopping down with a thoroughly bored expression, he stretches out his long legs, crossing them at the ankles, and folds his arms over his stomach. From the way that he leans his head back against the cushions, I would guess that he will be joining Seth in unconsciousness shortly.

Bella remains by the windows, angling her body so that she can listen to the dialogue, but Renesmee is succeeding in winning the majority of her attention as she continues to tell her mother about her day.

I too, am a little preoccupied by the exchange happening between my wife and our daughter. Even as I include my own views in Rosalie and Carlisle's conversation, a portion of my awareness is fixed on Renesmee's projected memories and the gentle rocking motion that Bella seems to be performing without really thinking about it as she stares into the little girl's big brown eyes.

The images flow constantly, as though Renesmee cannot convey them to Bella fast enough; she wants her to know _everything_ that she missed.

I watch with Bella as Jacob and Renesmee sit beneath an ancient hemlock, little sparrows hopping cautiously closer to them along the ground – and I have to stifle a chuckle when she illustrates to Bella the sour dirt smell of the yucky white stuff that Carlisle put in her cup.

Then I see myself, my features displaying the contradicting emotions of happiness and grief while I sing a wordless melody to Renesmee; Bella lies, so still, in the background, and I swallow hard to dislodge the lump in my throat.

As the hour draws to a close – the discussion is still going strong, and the two wolves are snoring loudly on the sofa – Renesmee drifts off to sleep in the middle of one of her memories.  
Glancing surreptitiously at Bella, I watch as she lifts one of our daughter's limp hands to her cheek, and her face lights up with fascination as she glimpses Renesmee's dreams. They really are quite intriguing, although observing them makes me wish in vain that I could have seen Bella's dreams in the same way.

But I will always be grateful for whatever strange quirk in her brain that caused her to talk in her sleep – those unfettered verbal remarks were like precious gems, affording me a bit more insight into the mind of the only woman I would ever love with every passing night.

_We're back! _A chipper voice shouts inside my head.

"Finally," I say in relief, turning to look out of the windows. The knot of anticipation in my stomach that manifested during the kiss Bella and I shared in the forest swells and undulates with excitement; I mask my feelings with a polite facial expression – however, my entire being hums with an electric current.

Leah withdraws from her spot near the house, slinking into the brush. Alice appears on the far side of the riverbed at the same time and she grabs a tree branch, swinging like a skilled trapeze performer, and spins across the water with ethereal grace. Esme follows, though not quite so extravagantly, and Emmett decides to plow through the swirling current, a wall of dark purple water exploding on either side of his massive frame.

Jasper brings up the rear – I would guess that Alice found him and convinced him to stop sulking – and the four of them make their way to the front door.

Everyone is smiling, and it does not take Bella very long to notice that all of the smiles are aimed at her.

She gazes at Alice with wary curiosity as the little black-haired sprite prances into the room. I roll my eyes when I see the ridiculously huge pink satin bow that she attached to the brass key in her hand.

My sister holds out the key to Bella eagerly and drops it into her open palm, squealing in her wind chime timbre, "Happy birthday!"

Bella rolls her eyes, holding Renesmee's slumbering weight in her free arm with ease. "No one starts counting on the actual day of birth," she reminds her best friend condescendingly. "Your first birthday is at the year mark, Alice."

Alice grins at her with smug satisfaction. "We're not celebrating your vampire birthday. Yet," she adds. And then, the jovial words seem to burst out of her as she exclaims, "It's September thirteenth, Bella. Happy nineteenth birthday!"

--

****

Author's Note:

Because of the way this chapter was written in the book, it allowed me to have a bit more creative leeway as far as developing the storyline through Edward's perspective. I hope that this latest entry holds true to canon, and showcases a more in-depth view of what was happening at this point in _Breaking Dawn._

I also have to say that Seth Clearwater is swiftly on the way to becoming one of my favorite secondary characters in the whole series. He strikes me as a generally happy-go-lucky type of person, but he can also be strong and unswervingly loyal – and it intrigues me how personable he is with the Cullen family.

The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 452-470. There are also references and quotes from _New Moon_, _Twilight_ and _Eclipse_.


	5. Surprise

_**Chapter Note:**__ Erring on the side of caution, I thought it would be best if I add a mild warning to the beginning of this chapter. There are some sexual overtones, but I believe that the "Teen" rating has not been breached. I just wanted to let the younger readers know that this particular version of events is a bit more descriptive than the original novel. It was the only way that I could write it. Enjoy._

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The incredulous, horror-struck and outraged expression on Bella's face is reminiscent of the one she wore when Tyler Crowley told her that he would be taking her to the prom.

"No!" she cries out, shaking her head fervently in denial. "No way!" Shooting me a narrow-eyed glare – to which I respond with a smug grin – she protests, "No, this doesn't count. I stopped aging three days ago. I am eighteen forever."

Alice shrugs, not to be deterred. "Whatever. We're celebrating anyway, so suck it up." She smiles brilliantly, her elfin face aglow with excitement.

Bella studies her best friend for a fraction of a second, and then sighs in defeat. Alice's smile widens until her perfect, ultra-white teeth sparkle in the yellow artificial light from the bulbs set into the vaulted ceiling. "Are you ready to open your present?" she coos ecstatically.

"Present_s,"_ I amend, and dig my hand in the pocket of my jeans to retrieve the key to Bella's "after car". When she sees the long silver key garnished with a small blue bow, I can tell that she is resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Apparently, her customary lack of enthusiasm in regard to gifts has not changed – nor did I expect it to, of course.

Alice is wrinkling her button nose in mild irritation. "Mine first," she contradicts, and her eyes glaze over as she peers into the future to predict my reply.

I suppress a chuckle when I watch it through her thoughts, and she sticks her tongue out at me.

I say the words anyway – just to annoy her. "Mine is closer."

"But look at how she's _dressed."_ Alice throws her tiny arms upward as though supplicating to a higher power and moans, "It's been killing me all day. That is clearly the priority." Her topaz gaze widens significantly, daring me to oppose her absurd reasoning, and her cupid's bow lips flatten into a stubborn line.

Bella frowns in confusion as she processes Alice's comment about her clothing. Sadly, she has _no_ idea what my sister has in store for her.

"I know –" Alice beams, holding up an index finger, "I'll play you for it. Rock, paper, scissors."

Jasper chuckles at his wife's antics, absorbing her vivacious spirit with his talent. He seems unable to look away from her, and I know that at least for the moment, Bella's emotional state is no longer the focal point of his attention.

I sigh deeply and remark in a wry tone, "Why don't you just tell me who wins?"

The pixie-like face upturned towards mine brightens with a smile that rivals the radiance of a star. "I do," Alice states confidently, having just seen the outcome in her head. "Excellent."

It really does not matter to me one way or the other, so I allow my sister to savor her victory. Besides, I have come up with a valid excuse to wait before revealing my gift to Bella.

"It's probably better that I wait for morning, anyway." Giving my wife a crooked smile, I nod towards the two Quileute pack members sleeping soundly on the sofa and say teasingly, "I think it might be more fun if Jacob was awake for the big reveal, don't you agree? So that someone there" – I raise my eyebrows – "is able to express the right level of enthusiasm?"

Bella grins back at me, understanding exactly why I believe it will benefit her to see Jacob display the proper amount of awe for the vehicle I purchased. She has yet to acquire a healthy appreciation for quality transportation – that rusted artifact of a truck she used to drive is proof enough of that – but I have until the end of time to persuade her otherwise.

Moreover, I can hardly wait to see her in the driver's seat. It will be quite spectacular, I am sure.

Alice, reveling in the moment, bounces up and down giddily like a child. "Yay," she trills, clapping her hands. "Bella, give Ness – Renesmee to Rosalie."

Rose floats over to us, happy to take charge of Renesmee once again, and waits in silence for Bella to submit to Alice's instruction.

Bella seems reluctant to let the little girl, whose flushed face is nestled against the hollow of her throat, out of her arms. "Where does she usually sleep?" she inquires curiously.

Alice lifts her tiny shoulders in a casual shrug. "In Rose's arms. Or Jacob's. Or Esme's. You get the picture. She has never been set down in her entire life." She crosses her arms and shakes her head in mock-disparagement, sighing, "She's going to be the most spoiled half-vampire in existence."

Laughter flows effortlessly out of my mouth as Bella turns toward Rosalie, who takes Renesmee's limp form from her with practiced ease. "She is also the most _un_spoiled half-vampire in existence," Rose amends in a soft murmur. "The beauty of being one of a kind."

She smiles at Bella, and the expression is stunning, naturally…but more to the point, it is _genuine._ Rosalie has finally come to a decision in regard to her relationship with Bella; they are sisters, first and foremost – but they are also friends.

The kinship is nowhere near as strong as the one that exists between Bella and Alice, but it is there. I can hear the confirmation in Rose's thoughts: in her staunch determination to risk her life for our baby, Bella had at last made a choice that Rosalie could support – a choice that she herself would have made if their positions were reversed. And that is what convinced my narcissistic sister to preserve the link of camaraderie that had been forged during Bella's pregnancy.

In response to Rosalie's smile, Bella's vivid scarlet eyes flare with a sudden burst of intuition, and her heart-shaped face lights up with glad relief.

Eager as always, Alice snags Bella's elbow and pulls her in the direction of the back door. "Let's go, let's go," she chants in a singsong voice.

"Is it outside?" Bella asks in bewilderment, traipsing along behind her in slow, cautious steps.

Tugging her through the doorway, Alice replies evasively, "Sort of."

I follow them at a more relaxed pace; though the madcap tendencies of the human man in me are screaming to quench my intense need as soon as possible, I have resolved that, as always, I will allow Bella to dictate how the evening will progress.

I feel a constricting band tighten around my silent ribcage as I consider the possibility of waiting yet another pointless night without being _completely_ with my wife…but I find the willpower to ignore it. For now.

As I reach the threshold, Rosalie calls out to Bella, "Enjoy your gift." _That includes you, Edward, _she adds mentally. I can detect the taunt in her words, so I throw a dark glare at her over my shoulder. She smiles beatifically and concludes, "It's from all of us. Esme especially."

Bella skids to a halt just outside the doorway, Alice yanking in vain on her arm, and stares at the rest of the family with confused eyes. "Aren't you coming, too?"

A chorus of mirth reverberates inside my skull; outwardly, everyone's expressions remain perfectly polite, their smiles reflecting the sincere affection they hold for their newest sister and daughter.

"We'll give you a chance to appreciate it alone," Rosalie replies breezily. "You can tell us about it…later."

Emmett guffaws, slapping a meaty hand over his mouth to muffle the noise. His thoughts are unbelievably vulgar, tossing out _suggestions_ to me about how to spend some 'quality time' with Bella, and I clench my teeth to resist the impulse to throw him back into the river.

Bella eyes Emmett inquisitively, and her face contorts fleetingly into an embarrassed wince – minus the usual crimson stain of blood rushing to color her cheeks.  
But just as that expression surfaces upon her features, it is replaced by a wide smile.

_What is she thinking?_

Alice pulls at her arm again, and Bella follows her into the night. The muted jewel tones of the afternoon have changed to shades of purple and cobalt, and Bella looks around in awe, absorbing every detail just as clearly as she had during the day, that inexplicable smile still illuminating her pale face.

Pausing at the riverbank, Alice glances over at her favorite sister and virtually puffs up with approval upon glimpsing Bella's broad grin. "There's the enthusiasm I'm looking for," she croons, and releases her grip on Bella's forearm. Then she bounds forward and leaps across the river with a dancer's grace.

"C'mon, Bella," she calls an instant later, waiting for us on the opposite shore.

I notice the muscles in my wife's bare legs tense, coiling to spring, and time my own jump so that we fly through the moist air in unison. From the far edge of my vision, Bella's smile transforms into an open-mouthed, silent shriek of pure delight. I cannot help but to grin in response.

Once we land soundlessly on the damp earth, Alice sprints through the forest and heads due north. Bella takes off after her while I keep pace, using our acute hearing and sense of smell to follow Alice's trail among the dense foliage.  
Of course, I have one more sense that aids me, and I utilize it as the three of us race effortlessly to our destination.  
Alice is scanning the immediate future to satisfy her curiosity in regard to Bella's reaction to her birthday gift, but the outcome is muddled by several possible conclusions – a result of a newborn vampire's quicksilver moods.

My head suddenly swims with a vision: a pale wooden floor, the scent of freesia, white on white skin, and a voice like the sweetest music slides silkily into my ear, whispering my name…

The sensations vanish abruptly as Alice blocks me from her mind by reciting random passages from _"Alice in Wonderland"_ because she knows that I have no great love for that very unusual piece of literature.

But while my thoughts may be free from the vivid images, my body is not. The electric current sizzling through my dead veins has spiked in intensity a hundredfold since I shared that vision with Alice. I do not even trust myself in this state to risk glancing to my right – for as soon as I see her face, her exposed limbs glowing faintly in the indigo light – I will be lost.

I must stay focused. I _will_ stay focused.

_She comes first._

Searching for a suitable distraction, I examine our surroundings and note with a brief flicker of surprise that we are less than a hundred meters from our goal. I expected my sister to devise a more pretentious means of unveiling Bella's present.

Concurrently with that notion, Alice spins around on heel up ahead. Bella pauses in confusion as the petite black-haired vampire flashes to her side. "Don't attack me," she warns, and then pounces on my wife.

Bella squirms uncomfortably as Alice clambers onto her back and covers her eyes with both hands. "What are you doing?" she objects, tossing her head from side to side in frustration.

"Making sure you can't see," Alice retorts as though it is perfectly obvious.

I throw her an exasperated look. "I could have taken care of that without the theatrics."

"You might let her cheat." Glaring at me with an equally frustrated stare as the one I am giving her, my sister rebukes mentally – _And I _know_ you would, Edward, so don't bother trying to deny it._ Then she commands aloud, "Take her hand and lead her forward."

"Alice, I –" Bella starts to protest.

"Don't bother, Bella. We're doing this my way." She wraps her tiny legs around Bella's waist, locking them at the ankles, and gazes over at me with arched eyebrows, waiting for my submission to her plan.

I sigh, a quiet release of breath, and reach for Bella's hand. Weaving her slender fingers through mine, the powerful current humming within my body strengthens where our skin makes contact – and I am reminded of the electric ball that humans are so fond of, marveling when the energy housed within the sphere consolidates at the point where their finger touches the glass.

My focus slips a little; I order myself to speak, to concentrate on _something_ other than my need.

"Just a few seconds more, Bella." My words carry significance both for Bella and for myself, and I am pleased that my tone is light, not betraying the emotions that are coursing through me with unnatural potency.

_Stay focused, stay in control._

Glancing sidelong at Alice, I smirk and add jokingly, "Then she'll go annoy someone else."

I tug gently on Bella's hand, pulling her forward, and we continue on at the same speed through the night-painted forest.

_I'm sorry about earlier, _Alice thinks, her gold eyes wide and penitent. _I didn't want to intrude on your and Bella's privacy – not when I can help it. _

She knows that I extend to her and Jasper the same courtesy as much as I am able whenever they are together in the house, and the rest of our family as well. We may not have secrets from one another, but we do have enough morality to afford discretion.

I turn my head slightly to look at her and nod once, using the gesture to communicate that it is not an issue.

_More to the point… _The tenor of her thoughts changes; I can sense a stern reproach brewing within her mind. _You're lucky I cut it off when I did. You were_ this_ close to making me very irritated. _A fleeting image of me scooping Bella into my arms and disappearing into the trees while Alice stands dumbfounded floats across my vision, and I stifle a laugh.

"You might be a little more appreciative," my sister chides verbally. "This is as much for you as it is for her."

"True," I acknowledge, and offer her a broad, gleaming smile. "Thank you again, Alice."

She rolls her eyes, exaggerating the motion. "Yeah, yeah. Okay," she mutters indifferently, but she cannot disguise the satisfied Cheshire cat grin curving her lips.

A shaft of pale silver moonlight suddenly contrasts with the purple dark as we approach the fringe of the clearing, and Alice whoops excitedly inside her head. "Stop there," she tells me. I slow to a halt just beyond the thick fern fronds ringing the edges of the small open space, feeling my own excitement growing in response to Alice's hyper disposition. "Turn her just a little to the right. Yes, like that," she congratulates when I guide Bella through a quarter-inch turn in the prescribed direction. "Okay. Are you ready?" she asks in a high-pitched, gleeful squeal.

"I'm ready." Bella leans forward, her nostrils flaring subtly as she inhales the new scents emanating from the glade.

With a huge grin, Alice jumps down from Bella's back, uncovering her eyes.

I watch her face as she stares, wide-eyed in shock, at the stone cottage. Esme has truly outdone herself with this particular project; she wanted it to be everything that Bella and I could dream of for our own home, and spent many hours and resources trying to make that dream a reality.

Though I have seen the cottage numerous times – with my own eyes and through the minds of my family – it seems all the more special now that I am sharing the picturesque setting with Bella. Smiling gently at her awestruck expression, I squeeze her hand and wonder abstractedly how I had come to deserve all that I have ever wanted – which is forever with my Bella.

Clasping her small hands in front of her, Alice pipes up softly, "What do you think?" _I think she likes it. She _has _to like it – Esme worked so hard to finish… Do you think she likes it?_

Bella's free hand curls around the brass key resting on her palm, and her lips part as though she is about to reply, but nothing comes out.

I explain in a low murmur, "Esme thought we might like a place of our own for a while, but she didn't want us too far away." My smile widens, mirroring the deep affection I hold for the woman who has been a mother to me for more than half a century. "And she loves any excuse to renovate. This little place has been crumbling away out here for at least a hundred years."

Bella remains silent, her mouth hanging open like a fish out of water. She looks positively adorable.

_Why doesn't she say anything? _Alice stares anxiously at Bella, inquiring, "Don't you like it?" Her eager expression plummets into a heartbreakingly distressed wince. "I mean, I'm sure we could fix it up differently, if you want. Emmett was all for adding a few thousand square feet, a second story, columns, and a tower" – _which is completely ridiculous, but that's Emmett for you_ – "but Esme thought you would like it best the way it was meant to look." My sister seems unaware that her sentences are spilling into one another because she is speaking so quickly, and her voice rises in pitch and volume due to stress. "If she was wrong, we can get back to work. It won't take long to –"

"Shh!" Bella hushes her. Alice presses her lips together until they form a thin white line and waits, twisting her hands nervously. Without tearing her eyes away from the cottage, Bella whispers in amazement, "You're giving me a house for my birthday?"

"Us," I correct her tenderly, while my motionless heart sings inside my chest over the simple truth of that one small word. "And it's no more than a cottage. I think the word _house_ implies more legroom." I insert that last bit to tease her; the moment is too perfect to pass up, and I am curious to hear what witty response she will deliver.

Turning her head a fraction of an inch to the side, she peers at me from the corner of her eye and whispers, "No knocking my house."

I smirk, amused, and Alice's smile stretches clear across her elfin face as she declares, "You like it."

Bella shakes her head. Alice revises by asking with bated breath, "Love it?" She nods, a hint of a smile playing along the curves of her mouth. "I can't wait to tell Esme!" Alice exclaims joyfully, clapping her hands and jumping up and down.

Bella glances at her then, her vivid scarlet eyes questioning. "Why didn't she come?"

_Um… _Alice scrambles mentally for a tactful reply, her bright grin wilting just a little. "Oh, you know…" she answers in an offhand manner, "they all remember how you are about presents. They didn't want to put you under too much pressure to like it."

I have to admit, she is quite good at subterfuge.

"But of course I love it." Bella, innocent as ever, is oblivious to her best friend's verbal maneuvering. She seems mystified by Alice's reason as to why the rest of the family stayed back at the house. "How could I not?"

"They'll like that." Alice pats Bella lightly on the arm in farewell. "Anyhoo, you closet is stocked. Use it wisely. And…I guess that's everything." She throws a brief glance in my direction. _I know you want me out of your hair. _Then she adds pleadingly, _Could you at least _show_ her the closet tonight? Please?_

I raise an eyebrow ever so slightly while Bella looks at Alice in bewilderment. "Aren't you going to come inside?"

_Wow, she really hasn't changed at all. So refreshingly naïve. _Alice backpedals lithely a few feet, justifying her exit by remarking, "Edward knows his way around. I'll stop by…later." _Actually, we'll see you both in the morning, _she informs me. The knot in my stomach tightens with renewed vigor; I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from acting rashly. "Call me if you can't match your clothes right," Alice advises Bella, eyeing her doubtfully over a narrow shoulder. She flashes a grin at each of us, and says as her goodbye, "Jazz wants to hunt. See you."  
After that, she darts off into the woods, a cluster of ferns swaying in the breeze of her invisible wake.

When the sound of Alice's swift, muted footfalls no longer reaches the clearing, Bella comments almost to herself, "That was weird." Looking up at me with a sheepish expression, she asks hesitantly, "Am I really _that_ bad? They didn't have to stay away." She drops her eyes before I can interrupt, mumbling, "Now I feel guilty. I didn't even thank her right." Abruptly she steps forward, pulling on my hand. "We should go back, tell Esme –"

I hold my ground – fortunately, Bella does not always remember that she is stronger than I am – and cut off her suggestion in a mild tone. "Bella, don't be silly. No one thinks you're that unreasonable."

She meets my gaze blankly. Refreshingly naïve, Alice had said. Yes, she is that…and it is so incredibly endearing. I manage to conceal a smile as she begins to speak. "Then what –"

"Alone time is their other gift." I allow the smile to mold my features while I hold her eyes, unblinking, with mine. "Alice was trying to be subtle about it."

Bella's stare widens as realization sinks in, and then floods with a myriad of emotions, only some of which I can identify because I am experiencing them as well. Delight, anticipation, impatience, desire, lust…

Her full lips form a tempting circle, and she murmurs quietly, "Oh."

I so very nearly surrender to the need clawing at my insides, since I can see in her heart-shaped face that she feels it, too. But it is _her_ birthday, this is _her_ special night, and she makes the decisions.

She seems frozen in place, gazing up at me with those fiery, swirling pools of liquid ruby – so I decide to steer her attention in a safer direction. Leading her towards the cottage, I propose calmly, "Let me show you what they've done."

She walks beside me sinuously, though her eyes flick to my face every three and a half seconds and her fingers flex periodically around mine, like she is struggling to contain a surge of excess energy.

I know the feeling all too well.

Suddenly, she lets out a soft, tinkling laugh. It dances through the air as her rain-soaked freesia scent mingles with the floral perfume of the small garden, and I glance sideways to study her expression. A small, secretive smile is on her lips; it prompts me to ask, "Do I get to hear the joke?"

"It's not a very good one," she admits as we stroll together along the flat stone pathway to the door. "I was just thinking – today is the first and last day of forever." My chest swells with an upwelling of happiness so intense that I find that I am unable to breathe. I want to crush her into my arms…but I settle for squeezing her hand gently, not wishing to interrupt. "It's kind of hard to wrap my head around it," Bella tells me, still smiling. "Even with all this extra room for wrapping."

She laughs again, and I join in, the bell-like tones of our voices harmonizing more beautifully than any master's symphony.

In an act of chivalry, I release her hand and make a sweeping gesture towards the rounded doorway. Bella glides past, her face alight with eagerness, and pushes the key in the lock. Turning it clockwise, the bolt clicks softly away from the frame, and instead of immediately opening the door, she removes the key and tucks it into the breast pocket of my borrowed shirt.

I watch her every movement in avid fascination. She is truly the most magnificent creature to ever walk this earth, and of all her many admirers, she chose me as her own. She chose to accept and even reciprocate my love, as unworthy as it is, and she chose to become my wife despite her aversion to the concept of marriage. And the most sacred gift of all: Bella chose to give _herself_ – her heart, her body, and her soul – to me.  
Feeling slightly humbled by the woman who holds my entire existence in her hands, I muse quietly, "You're such a natural at this, Bella; I forget how very strange this all must be for you." She looks at me with clear, deep eyes brimming with thoughts that will always be hidden from me, and I offer her a regretful smile. "I wish I could _hear_ it."

I banish that emotion and every other dark shadow lurking in my mind an instant later; nothing will sully this perfect night, not if I can help it.

The world blurs into blue-violet watercolor as I swiftly duck down and capture Bella in my arms – one behind her knees, the other supporting her back. "Hey!" she shrieks in surprise, instinctively linking her slender arms around my neck while I straighten up. Her eyes are sparkling like jewels, and as she struggles to catch an unnecessary breath, I recognize the expression on her face.

She is dazzled.

Grinning with sheer pleasure, I point out to her, "Thresholds are part of my job description."

Bella's exhale wafts across my lips and she smiles shakily. Even the diluted flavor of her breath mixed with the air is enough to cause the lightning racing through my veins to send a white-hot jolt down my spine.

I am running out of distractions.

My gaze roves over her face in half a second, examining the traces of internal reflections within her crimson irises, and the ever-present curiosity momentarily overrules my craving. "But I'm curious," I remark in a low voice. "Tell me what you're thinking about right now." Keeping her securely locked in one arm, I push open the wooden door and step over the threshold without looking away from her wide eyes.

"Everything," she declares, a soft giggle bubbling out of her mouth. "All at the same time, you know." She begins to list out, "Good things and things to worry about and things that are new. How I keep using too many superlatives in my head. Right now," Bella cranes her neck in every possible direction to get a full view of the living room, her lovely face transforming into a mesmerized and almost dreamy expression, and she murmurs with a low gasp, "I'm thinking that Esme is an artist. It's so perfect!"

_You make it so, _I think to myself, my gaze caressing the elegant lines of her features. Standing with her in this small cottage, our home, it is like the picture is now complete – the last piece of a complicated puzzle has finally snapped into place.

I have seen this room dozens of times. Esme even asked for my input in selecting a number of the literary classics stacked on the bookshelf and for choosing several of the paintings that adorn the walls. One of Bella's favorites, an undiscovered Monet, hangs in a place of honor on the mahogany wood wall directly across from the fireplace.

A small part of my brain comprehends that I should probably set her down now that I have officially carried her across the threshold, satisfying an age-old tradition. But as her all-encompassing stare comes full circle to bore intently into my eyes, I simply cannot force my limbs to release her. There is something so…_right_…in the way her small frame rests trustingly against my body, her long hair draping over both our shoulders. Her angelic face hovers scant inches from mine, the embers smoldering in the depths of her eyes tantalizing me like a moth drawn to an open flame – and I fall back to reality as I recall that Bella has yet to see the rest of the cottage.

I try to make inane small talk, commenting in a lighthearted tone, "We're lucky Esme thought to add an extra room." And in my lack of concentration, I commit a serious transgression. "No one was planning for Ness – Renesmee."

I correct the error quickly, but it is already too late. Bella scowls at me and unwinds her arms from around my neck to fold them grumpily over her chest. "Not you, too," she complains, puckering her full lips as though tasting a sour lemon.

Smiling at her ruefully, I lift my shoulders a bit in a shrug and apologize. "Sorry, love." I try to defend my mistake, presenting an explanation – albeit a weak one – for my slip-up. "I hear it in their thoughts all the time, you know. It's rubbing off on me."

She sighs heavily, the air making a quiet whooshing noise through her pursed lips. Her scowl diminishes just faintly and she loosens her tightly crossed arms, though her chin rises a bit in a show of her usual obstinacy.

I am certain, judging by her appearance, that she has decided to never use that nickname for our daughter. And if I know Bella at all, she will stick to that decision with resolute stubbornness.

I scour my mind for another topic, and then tilt my mouth into a lopsided grin. "I'm sure you're dying to see the closet," I remark with teasing sarcasm. "Or," I raise my eyebrows, feigning that some profound idea has just occurred to me, "at least I'll _tell_ Alice that you were, to make her feel good."

Bella measures my expression and my words for a full second before she asks, a barely detectable hint of unease in her voice, "Should I be afraid?"

"Terrified."

I carry my bride down the narrow stone hallway. She leans her head back to look at the arched ceiling, exposing the smooth white column of her throat to my hungry gaze, and I swallow hard to suppress the mounting urge to kiss her silky, floral-scented skin.

Pausing at the doorway to the empty bedroom in the southeast corner of the cottage, I nod towards it and announce, "That will be Renesmee's room. They didn't have time to do much with it, what with the angry werewolves…" I trail off, chuckling, as Bella laughs quietly, the sound tinted with relief.

Finally, we reach the closed door at the end of the hall. I know what lies beyond the carved wood – hazy visions of the room swim through my mind – and I suddenly, inexplicably, feel the icy prickles of nervousness along the back of my neck. It is the exact same sensation I felt when Bella and I stood in the white bedroom on Isle Esme the night we arrived. Our first night together as husband and wife.

"Here's our room," I tell her in a low murmur, hoping that the minimal volume disguises the odd tremor in my voice. "Esme tried to bring some of her island back here for us." I reach for the antique brass knob and push my thumb down on the latch. "She guessed that we would get attached." The door glides open silently and I step through, stopping just inside the entryway.

The east-facing room is a miniature replica of the master suite on the island. A massive white bed with a canopy of soft, airy gossamer dominates the center of the area. Blue-white paint on the walls and the pale, sand-colored floor bring to mind a cloudless day on the beach… and then there is the back wall.

Polished glass doors open up to an exquisite little garden full of climbing white and blush pink roses that shelter a small round pond framed by glistening stones. Our own private ocean, my mother had said with a loving smile.

Bella is still and silent in my arms for a long while. Then I hear her tiny inhalation, feel her lean into my chest, and she breathes out in scarcely a whisper, "Oh."

So many things I wish that I could say if I had the words…but all I am able to articulate is a whispered reply. "I know."

A wash of memories – some of the most beautiful, cherished memories I possess – drown all other thought for a brief eternity.

The way Bella had looked, just like an angel, in the silvery glow of the moon as she stood before me, ocean waves breaking gently against us. How the heat of her body radiated, warming my frigid, stone-like shell as I held her in my arms. Hearing her say my name in a thousand different ways, over and over, until I was convinced that there was no sweeter sound in the whole world. Being so consumed by pure ecstasy that I felt as if I could finally gain access to heaven.

There are other memories. Still treasured, because they are of Bella, but tainted by the darkness of what I am – what I should have been strong enough to circumvent.

Watching over her as she slept and struggling to survive the punishing tide of anguish while blood pooled under her delicate flesh, forming deep bruises that had been wrought by my carelessness. How she had tried to reassure me that I had not destroyed the most magical night of both our lives by my monstrous nature. The ways she had contrived to persuade me to make love to her again though I was terrified of hurting her even more than I already had.

I allow that particular memory to fully surface, permeating my mind with crystalline clarity. Bella had looked so utterly delectable in that black lace confection, the cream and roses tone of her skin almost glowing in the dim light… I was teetering on the edge of my sanity as she spun in a circle to give me the full effect.

Sadly, the fragile garment had been torn to shreds – a casualty to my haste – and both Bella and I had mourned its loss.

But now I wonder: Alice selected all of Bella's clothing for the honeymoon, and she had crammed over a dozen complete wardrobes into the closet situated at the far side of the bedroom. Could it be possible that my nearly omniscient sister had foreseen the need to purchase a few items comparable to the one that was lost?

Her words leap forward in my head, echoing in my eardrums with new meaning. _"You might be a little more appreciative. This is as much for you as it is for her."_

I am suddenly _very_ curious about the contents of that closet.

A rumble of laughter builds in my chest. Bella senses the vibration and peers up at me, her eyes slightly clouded with nostalgia. Smiling broadly, I chuckle around the words as I inform her, "The closet is through those double doors." I incline my head a bit in that direction. "I should warn you – it's bigger than this room."

She makes no attempt to even glance at the doors. The smoldering fire in her crimson irises flares brilliantly, igniting her entire countenance with passion, and my focus narrows until she and I are the only two people in the world. "We're going to tell Alice that I ran right to the clothes," she whispers huskily, tangling her fingers into my hair. She shifts in my arms, adjusting her weight so that she can pull our faces closer together. I can taste the perfume of her inviting mouth on my tongue as her whisper floats through the air.

She holds me captivated while her eyelids lower partially, the tip of her nose brushing against mine as she moves nearer still. "We're going to tell her I spent hours in there playing dress-up," she breathes. My hold around her tightens convulsively, and the electric current sizzling through my body sets every nerve ending ablaze. "We're going to _lie."_ Bella's full lips graze over my own as she whispers the last syllable, and I at last succumb to the ferocious need roaring in desperation within the core of my being.

My hand leaves the curve of her leg to frame her face, pulling her towards me that final, agonizing millimeter until our mouths connect in a voracious kiss. A low moan escapes from my throat – and together we fly into a frenzy, the electricity leaping between us like two high voltage pylons. Bella rips through my clothing with a single stroke; the scraps of fabric flutter onto the floor as I easily strip off my shirt and the ruined silk dress from her body.

Neither of us seems to care that we are not going to make it to the bed. I vow to carry her over there later, storing that reminder in the very back of my mind before it vanishes altogether in the overwhelming flood of sensation brought on by Bella's small hands roaming across my bare skin.

Our lips do not part as we fall onto the wooden floor, entwining our limbs so tightly that I can hardly tell where she begins and I end. Joy, wild and unrestrained, explodes like fireworks inside my skull as I give myself to Bella completely, no longer afraid or having to use caution because of her human fragility. She is not made of silk stretched over molded glass anymore. My palms wander down the arc of her spine, urging her closer, and she sighs my name into the curl of my ear. Her skin still feels like the richest silk, yet now it covers a creature crafted from steel rather than glass, as beautiful as she is deadly to any mortal.

Though her body does not emit the scorching heat of racing blood and exertion, there is a strange new warmth growing in the center of my being, spreading tendrils of white-hot energy to every cell within my body, and a blinding light sears my eyes. Bella shivers exquisitely, holding me to her with an embrace so powerful that it should be painful, but all I am aware of is the bliss that envelops my consciousness as Bella cries out my name in ecstasy and hers departs from my mouth with a quiet groan of rapture.

The hours that follow are heaven brought down to earth. Once we have sated our joint hunger for one another through feverish lovemaking, there is plenty of time left over to proceed more slowly.  
Bella pulls away from me just enough to rake her gaze across the length of my body with an almost possessive admiration, and then she draws her lower lip between her teeth and looks aside, embarrassed, when she notices that I am watching.

I prepare to tell her that she has no reason to be embarrassed over appreciating something that will always belong to her, but she swiftly bends down for a kiss and chases the consolation from my mind.

In due course, I remember to take her to the bed. It really is not much different from lying on the floor comfort-wise, but as she lays her head on the fluffy down pillows with a sigh, her dark hair twisted wildly around her bare shoulders, I am glad that I remembered.

She reaches for me, and I am beside her on the mattress in an instant. Taking my hands, she interlaces our fingers before tucking herself into the slight curve of my body. We fit together like the corresponding pieces of a puzzle, shaped exactly to match.

Bella's expression is thoughtful, so I would guess that she is about to remark on some topic. Deeply interested in anything she has to say, I wait for her to speak while planting gentle, languid kisses on her jaw line, the satiny expanse of her neck, and the elegant lines of her collarbones.

"I'd like to go back there someday," she murmurs a few minutes later. When I glance up at her face curiously, she clarifies, "Isle Esme. I'd like to go there again."

I am about to inform her that we could go now if it was what she wanted – but I doubt that she will want to leave Renesmee right when she has been reintroduced into her life. I am unsure if even I could leave our daughter behind when the stability of her future is so uncertain.

So I slowly draw a line with my lips from the hollow of Bella's throat to the point of her chin, promising into her skin, "We'll plan on it for our first anniversary."

"Okay…" she mutters weakly, her eyelids quivering in response to my touch, and I have no choice but to kiss her again.

When the sheets are in a tangled mess on the floor, Bella places her elbows on my chest and props her chin in her hands, looking down at me with an unreadable stare, a faint smile playing along the corners of her mouth. I gaze back at her patiently, one hand resting on the swell of her hip while I thread the other into her chocolate brown hair, letting the luxurious strands flow through my fingers.

Further out in the forest, an owl takes flight from its roost, the passage of air beneath its feathers as whisper-soft as a breeze. When the sound has nearly faded, Bella reflects aloud, "I wonder when I got pregnant."

My brows arch in surprise. Her head tilts slightly to one side, studying my expression, and then one dark eyebrow quirks just a bit. She expects me to have an answer for her.

I shrug minutely, shifting my weight on the bed. "Based on your mood swings, the increase in your appetite and Renesmee's extraordinary growth rate…" I pause for the barest fraction of a second, struggling to identify the unusual emotions rising within me. "It would have happened on our first night." My voice becomes very quiet towards the end of my reply, and Bella scrutinizes my gaze carefully, hunting for some clue into my line of thinking. The skin around my eyes tightens as though trying to ward off her piercing intensity; I am not quite sure what these emotions stem from, and am worried that she will misinterpret their origin.

Deep lines abruptly mar her smooth forehead as she frowns down at me. Groaning in exasperation, she scolds, "Are you going to beat yourself up about that _again?"_

She thinks that I am reliving the bitter self-revulsion I felt when I saw the bruises that had covered her body in hideous bluish purple splotches. And though that moment did cross my mind earlier tonight, it is not the source of my tangled feelings.

I shake my head from side to side and offer Bella a tiny smile. "No."

"Hmm?" Her eyes widen, threatening me with a formidable glare that cannot quite obscure the affection in the depths of her gaze.

I chuckle softly at the expression, which is so unintentionally charming, and lean upwards to kiss away the frown from her lips. "I promise," I murmur, settling back onto the rumpled bedclothes.

"Then what is it?" Bella stretches out across my chest, tucking her head under my chin, her thin arms encircling me tenderly in wordless comfort.

My hands trace lazy patterns on her back as I contemplate a way to accurately express what I need to say. At the risk of sounding adversely repetitive, I lay my cheek against her hair and reply, my words hesitant, "I owe you an apology."

Bella stiffens, only for an instant, because that specific sentiment harkens back to a time that was unbelievably painful for us both. As much as I wish I could forget, I can recall every single detail of those early morning hours in her bedroom, agonizing over the thought that the next second would be my last; Bella could never forgive me for leaving her, and when she told me that she no longer loved me, there would be no more reason for me to continue to exist.

The rigidity melts from her soothing embrace as soon as she senses my inner conflict, and turns her face to press her lips into the hollow above my collarbone. Sighing, I wrap my arms around her slender frame, willing the shadows of the past to retreat. "What for?" Bella whispers in a gentle tone.

"I am so sorry for the way I acted the day we left the island." I have not told her this before – not in so many words. It is difficult for me to experience those moments again, but something within the deepest part of my…_soul_…encourages me to continue. "I was…totally irrational, and more frightened than I have ever been in my entire life. I didn't want to – I _could not _lose you." Burying my nose in her fragrant tresses, I pause for a few seconds, reestablishing my equilibrium in the present. "It was thoughtless of me to simply dominate the situation without speaking to you first. I just couldn't see it then."

She breaks into my monologue in a small voice, remarking, "I didn't understand why you were so angry. I thought – well, I thought it was what you wanted."

"What I wanted?"

Bella nods against my skin. "Of course, I didn't understand the danger I was in as a human carrying a half-vampire child, but I thought you _wanted_ us to have a baby. Don't you remember? You said something about that to me the night before the wedding."

The conversation lurches to the forefront of my mind, invoked by her explanation:

_I spoke so slowly, with reluctance, forcing myself to hold her gaze and not look away in shame. "Do you remember when we told Charlie we were getting married? And he thought you were…pregnant?"_

_She laughed, her warm breath tickling my face. "And he thought about shooting you. Admit it – for one second, he honestly considered it."_

_I stayed silent, feeling a bit cowardly as I dropped my eyes to watch my fingers play with the ring on her left hand. "What, Edward?" Bella prompted after a minute or so, watching my face as best she could in the faint green glow of her alarm clock._

_"I just wish…" I glanced up at her, at the beautiful soul illuminating her warm brown eyes, and confessed, "Well, I wish that he'd been right."_

_She gasped, horrified. "Gah."_

_"More that there was some way he _could_ have been. That we had that kind of potential," I amended, thinking to myself that she would be a wonderful mother. But she could never have that. Not with me. "I _hate_ taking that away from you, too."_

_She was quiet for a moment, the shock still apparent on her face though I could see that she was deep in thought. Finally, she said with firm conviction, "I know what I'm doing."_

_"How can you know that, Bella?" I virtually begged. Right then, I wanted so badly to pluck the answer from her thoughts – while knowing that it was impossible to do so. "Look at my mother, look at my sister. It's not as easy a sacrifice as you imagine."_

_But she was steadfast in her belief. "Esme and Rosalie get by just fine," she replied. "If it's a problem later, we can do what Esme did – we'll adopt."_

_I sighed. She really did not understand. It wasn't about us raising a child, it was about us _creating _a child – a person that was half me and half her._

_Foolishly, my imagination began to conjure up visions of a little boy with Bella's chocolate brown hair and green eyes – the color mine had been as a human; or a little girl with bronze ringlets and dark eyes…_

_I choked off that line of thought violently. Such notions were preposterous and damaging, and beside the point. _

_What my frustration really boiled down to was that the inability to bear a child was yet one more thing Bella would give up for me, so that we would always be together._

_My features twisted, displaying my internal discord, and I spoke fiercely, "It's not _right!_ I don't want you to have to make sacrifices for me. I want to give you things, not take things away from you." A growl built inside my chest, fueling my words with agitation. "I don't want to steal your future. If I were human –"_

_She put her hand over my mouth, stopping my bitter outburst in its tracks. Then she took my face between her small hands, gripping with surprising strength, and gazed relentlessly into my eyes. _"You_ are my future."_

Focusing on Bella's heart-shaped face, her brilliant red eyes wide with concern as she stares at me, waiting for a response, I return to the present moment.

I ask, incredulous, while the syllables issue from my mouth with slow precision, "You decided to keep Renesmee because you thought _I_ wanted you to?"

"Not exactly." Bella fidgets a little under my stare, and then lays back down across my body, hiding her face in the curve of my shoulder. "I guess I didn't realize how…important it was to have a baby – _your_ baby – until it actually happened. Even though I was scared stiff because I knew it wasn't normal, and because you were so upset, I still wanted her." She shrugs a little, concluding, "I think I was irrational, too, what with all the crying and the weird dreams and stuff. Probably from the crazy pregnancy hormones."

I tighten my hold around her, troubled by a fragment of her answer. "I'm sorry," I whisper roughly, touching my lips to the crown of her head. "I never meant to frighten you."

"It was more your reaction than you." She adjusts her position, folding her arms above my ribcage and resting her chin atop them so that she can see my eyes. Then she says lovingly, but with a steely layer of resolve underlying her tone, "That's all behind us now. We can't change it. What matters is that we're here, right now, together – and we have Renesmee, too." She jabs her forefinger into my chest, poking me with every word as she commands, "No more angst from you, Mr. Cullen. It's not allowed in my house."

_Mr. Cullen. That's a new one. _I raise an eyebrow at her, a wickedly amused smirk appearing on my face. "Is that so, Mrs. Cullen?" I challenge. My hands grasp her around the waist, and she squeals in surprise as I roll our bodies, effectively switching our positions so that she is one pinned to the mattress.

A playful growl slips out between my lips as I nuzzle my face against the base of her throat, my nose skimming over her sweet-smelling skin, and Bella lets out a low, throaty sound, almost like a purr. I discover that I like the noise nearly as much as hearing her say my name.

While I begin to devise a number of ways to elicit that response from her again, I brush my lips against her earlobe, informing her in a warm, velvet whisper, "Well, I suppose I'll have to remind you what is allowed in _our_ house." And I set out to accomplish just that.

At some point, we begin to notice that the night is drawing to a close. I can smell the approaching sunrise – a trait of any primarily nocturnal creature – and the glass-smooth surface of the garden pond lightens from ink black to ash gray. A lark, heralding the arrival of the sun, trills merrily from among the blossoming roses.

When her bright tune ends, Bella asks, her fingertips outlining the shape of my mouth, "Do you miss it?"

"Miss what?" I reply softly, relishing the feel of her caresses.

"All of it – the warmth, the soft skin, the tasty smell…" Her fingers glide over my jaw and thread into the shorter hair at the nape of my neck. She pulls herself closer – which hardly seems possible, but I am not about to complain – and says, "I'm not losing anything at all, and I just wondered if it was a little bit sad for you that you were."

I laugh gently under my breath. Sad? I cannot even envision the emotion from within the cloud of sheer bliss saturating my whole being. "It would be hard to find someone _less_ sad than I am now. Impossible, I'd venture," I tell her in a soft murmur, rubbing my nose with hers. "Not many people get every single thing they want, plus all the things they didn't think to ask for, in the same day."

She pulls away a few centimeters, looking at me with critical eyes, and demands, "Are you avoiding the question?"

Sliding my palm from her waist, I reach up to press it against her cheek. She leans into my hand automatically as I declare in a husky, tender voice, "You _are_ warm." Bella seems to agree, nodding her head the tiniest bit. I allow my fingers to drift very slowly down her jaw, following the graceful arc of her throat to the swell of her breast, along the velvet skin on her abdomen, until my hand returns to its place on her waist. Her eyelids flutter as she takes in a trembling breath of unneeded air. "You _are_ soft," I comment in the same tone, briefly closing my eyes to preserve this moment forever in my perfect memory.

"And as for the scent," I chuckle once, very quietly, and open my eyes. "Well, I couldn't say I _missed_ that."  
In truth, the only aspect missing from Bella's one-of-a-kind aroma is the warmth of her blood, which would trigger my basest instinct to sink my teeth into her throat and drink my fill.  
I know Bella felt the burning scorch of thirst when she smelled the humans in the forest. Perhaps she is ready to fully grasp what it cost to be with her while she was still a dangerous temptation to the vampire in me – and just how much of a masochist I really am.

"Do you remember the scent of those hikers on our hunt?" I question her, still smiling while being completely candid.

Her nose wrinkles in distaste. "I've been trying very hard not to," she admits with a grumble.

I purse my lips, tilting my head to the side as I remember my chosen form of self-abuse – though I would never trade any of it for the world. "Imagine kissing that."

Bella's eyes grow huge in shocked recognition. She swallows hard, almost as if her throat can still feel the searing ache, and exhales heavily, _"Oh."_

"Precisely," I confirm. Then I lift my hand and braid my fingers into her tousled dark hair. "So the answer is no." My other hand leaves her waist to cup her cheek, my thumb stroking the edge of her jaw. "I am purely full of joy, because I am missing _nothing,"_ I assure her tenderly, guiding her face towards mine. Her scarlet irises glow with ardent anticipation as I murmur, "No one has more than I do now."

Our lips meet in a soft, lingering kiss and we meld into one another as the lark bursts into song once again.

The sky has turned a lustrous, washed-out pearl color with the dawn when Bella, lying perpendicular beside me on the bed, lolls her head to the side on my stomach to look at me. "How long does this go on?" she asks in wonderment. "I mean, Carlisle and Esme, Em and Rose, Alice and Jasper – they don't spend all day locked in their rooms." I smile widely, certain that I can predict where she is heading with her query. "They're out in public," she goes on, almost disbelieving, "fully clothed, all the time." Wriggling across the limited space between us, Bella rearranges herself along the length of my body and I open my arms, welcoming her back into my embrace. "Does this…" she curls into me, entangling her slender legs with mine, _"craving_ ever let up?"

I consider her question for a few seconds, clearing a lock of glossy brown hair from her cheek, and then remark thoughtfully, "That's difficult to say. Everyone is different and, well, so far you're the very most different of all." With a smile, I place a gentle kiss on her forehead. "The average young vampire is too obsessed with thirst to notice much else for a while. That doesn't seem to apply to you."

For a brief instant, my father's hypothesis in regard to Bella's gift crosses my mind as I utter those words.

In truth, I am more inclined to believe that her extraordinary ability to control her natural impulses is born from the foreknowledge she gained from our family and myself. Furthermore, since her thoughts are still veiled from my talent, I would hazard a guess that if Bella exhibits any skill beyond the norm for an average vampire, it will stem from her mysterious mind.

Resuming where I left off in my answer, I tell her, "With the average vampire, though, after that first year, other needs make themselves known. Neither thirst nor any other desire really ever _fades._ It's simply a matter of learning to balance them, learning to prioritize and manage…" I trail off, thoroughly distracted by Bella's adorable glower, which I catch a glimpse of right before she leans forward to press feather-light butterfly kisses on the tip of my nose, my cheeks, and my eyelids.

She pauses at the corner of my mouth – and suddenly withdraws several inches, a tantalizingly smug grin on her face. I suppress a sigh, chastising her with a half-hearted frown. I suppose I deserve to endure a little unfair temptation after all the times I succeeded in purposefully diverting her attention with a glance, a kiss, or a touch.

"How long?" she asks again, raising her eyebrows in expectation.

I smile crookedly, wrinkling my nose a bit as I recall, "Rosalie and Emmett were the worst." Which is putting it _very_ mildly, in my personal opinion. Rolling my eyes, I explain, "It took a solid decade before I could stand to be within a five-mile radius of them. Even Carlisle and Esme had a difficult time stomaching it." I still have to put up with their thoughts, however – and it has not become any easier to bear even after seven and a half decades. Especially Emmett; he may have a less complicated mind than most, straightforward and reliable, but he has an extremely vivid awareness.

"They kicked the happy couple out eventually. Esme built them a house, too." I wave a hand absently at the four walls enclosing Bella and I in this small haven of paradise. "It was grander than this one, but then, Esme knows what Rose likes, and she knows what you like."

"So, after ten years, then?" Bella snuggles closer, looping her arms around my neck. My skin tingles pleasantly in response to the sensation of her body pressing against mine, but at the same time I am pondering the slight inflection in her tone. She sounds almost _skeptical._ About what, I am not certain. "Everybody is normal again? Like they are now?"

My lips part over my teeth as I give her a broad, gleaming smile. "Well, I'm not sure what you mean by normal," I reply mischievously. "You've seen my family going about life in a fairly human way, but you've been sleeping nights." I toss her a cheeky wink, and her shoulders tremble in a silent giggle. "There's a tremendous amount of time left over when you don't have to sleep. It makes balancing your…interests quite easy. There's a reason why I'm the best musician in the family, why – besides Carlisle – I've read the most books, studied the most sciences, become fluent in the most languages…"

I used to think that my immortality would forever be limited to filling my expandable intellect with seemingly useless knowledge, if only to spare myself from the hellish monotony of my existence.

And yet, those ostensibly unending years of sequential self-torment eventually led my family to a small, cloud-shrouded town on the Olympic Peninsula, whereupon my fate became permanently linked with the one girl whose mind was hidden from me, whose blood sang to me with alluring sweetness, and who would one day possess my heart for all eternity.

Slanting my mouth sideways into a smirk, I mention with casual leniency, "Emmett would have you believe that I'm such a know-it-all because of the mind reading, but the truth is that I've just had a _lot_ of free time."

We laugh together – a chorus of bells ringing throughout the room – until we both notice the slight friction between our joined bodies, initiated by the vibrations of our laughter.

The sun's first golden rays fan out over the horizon, igniting the pearl gray sky with streaks of brilliant topaz as Bella and I continue to celebrate her birthday, our love, and our life together in the most spectacular manner imaginable.

She had told me earlier that today is the first and last day of forever.

And it is the best day of my life.

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_**Author's Note:**__ You may have noticed that there is quite a bit of extra dialogue in this chapter. In the original novel on page 483, it says, 'It wasn't the first time we'd spoken, but we weren't exactly keeping up a conversation, either.' So, I figured that I would add some interaction here and there, in the hopes that it would enhance the story.  
The reference to "Alice in Wonderland" is a very small joke of a personal nature. It is one of my favorite stories, but no one else in my family enjoys it at all. I mentioned it briefly in another story, "Safe", and in my imagined "Twilight" universe, the book has special significance to Alice. I recommend reading "Safe" if you want to know more.  
And the brief conversation Edward and Bella had in regard to her pregnancy was something that I thought should happen – that they would have addressed to clear the air, as it were, and to heal any cracks that may have manifested in their relationship.  
__The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from __Breaking Dawn__ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 471-485, and from pages 27-28.  
Please review!_


	6. Favor

**Updated 1.6.09: **Again, thanks goes out to those reviewers who caught my little error in regard to microwaveable objects in this chapter. ;)

**Chapter Note:** My apologies for the update delay. I didn't realize until I started really delving into this chapter that there is so much buried beneath the surface. Hence, the reason why this posting is quite a bit longer than any of the others. I hope that you enjoy it.

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Reality, of course, will not allow me to ignore it for long.

The dawn has swiftly transitioned to morning. The sky is covered by a thick blanket of pearl gray clouds, with ragged holes that fleeting beams of pale yellow sunshine escape through to cast light on the world below.

I resist the urge to sigh, not wishing to interrupt the steady flow of hummed music issuing from my mouth. Bella had specifically requested a few minutes ago for me to sing her lullaby – _"So the tradition isn't broken. Even though I don't need to sleep anymore."_ – and I cannot deny her anything she asks for, so I obliged.

Although she is making it hard to concentrate, even on a melody that is permanently etched on my brain, while her fingertips dance gently across my forearms as I hold her close, my lips against her ear.

The final phrase of her lullaby fades into the chorus of birdsong echoing from the forest, and I pause for one infinitesimal second – holding onto this perfect piece of heaven for as long as I possibly can – before murmuring quietly, "Renesmee…"

Bella sighs, low and deep. Her fingers pause on my skin, and she freezes in my arms an instant later. Craning my neck, I try to read her facial expression – but all I can make out from this angle is the fringe of black lashes around her eyes, which have grown wide with anxiety.

I place a brief kiss on her cheek; she does not even twitch. "It's all right, love," I breathe soothingly into her ear. "Get dressed, and we'll be back to the house in two seconds."

She springs to her feet, her curtain of silky dark hair trailing down her bare back, and I fight the sudden impulse to fasten my arms around her body to prevent her from ever leaving this room.

_Selfish,_ I chastise myself with a resolve that I do not really feel. _She comes first._

Bella's head whips around to stare at me. The muscles in the pit of my stomach tighten in response to the obvious longing in her ruby-colored eyes, and then she looks toward the west, where our daughter is waiting.

She repeats this action half a dozen times, her face blurring with the speed of the motion. I smile at her silly antics; she looks so comical in her indecision, like a cartoon character, but I do not laugh. For one thing, Bella intensely dislikes to be the source of anyone's amusement – including me, though I have told her that there is a difference between 'amused' and 'entertained' – and for another, I would be lying if I pretend that I do not share her torn line of thinking.

"It's all about balance, love," I remind her. Bella's head stops in mid-turn, her eyes flicking to mine. Now that I have succeeded in capturing her attention, I go on. "You're so good at all of this, I don't imagine it will take too long to put everything in perspective."

Her gaze skitters down the length of my body, sending prickles of heat along my nerve endings, and then flashes up to my face, a hopeful gleam in her crimson irises. "And we have all night, right?" she asks eagerly, a half smile curving her full lips.

Grinning broadly, I reply in a blithe voice that I scarcely recognize as my own, "Do you think I could bear to let you get dressed now if that weren't the case?"

Bella nods to herself and whirls about, sprinting over to the ornate wooden double doors that lead to the closet – Alice's personal playground. Throwing them open, she dashes inside…and I hear her shocked intake of air. I clamber to my feet and bound after her, arriving at Bella's side just in time to see her blatantly appalled expression as she looks around at the seemingly endless rows of white garment bags.

"Which ones are mine?" she hisses in aggravation.

I maintain a composed façade while inwardly struggling to contain a burst of laughter. Bella's reaction is almost exactly the way I pictured it. I tried to warn my sister on numerous occasions but Alice would have none of it. _"S__he's my best friend, Edward, and my sister. She may as well get used to how things work around here."_

Never mind the fact that the very first time Alice decided to 'help' with Bella's wardrobe, she threatened not to come to the house again if the little black-haired imp made her into Guinea Pig Barbie.

I keep my face turned slightly away from Bella, just in case the hint of a smirk pierces my polite mask, and stroll towards the left side of the doorway. "To the best of my knowledge, everything but this rack here –" I lay my hand on the nearest bar, upon which hangs a new selection of clothing for me that Alice picked up during her shopping spree, _"So you won't feel left out."_ I shake my head a bit at my sister's absurd reasoning and conclude, "– is yours."

"All of this?" she exclaims incredulously, her eyes huge as she stares first at me, then at the racks, whose contents could supply a designer boutique.

My shoulders lift into a shrug, and together we utter the name of the one responsible for this extravagance. "Alice." I say it as an explanation, with a sort of weary acquiescence; Bella growls it out as though the syllables leave a foul taste in her mouth.

"Fine," she hisses under her breath, and yanks the nearest bag from the rack, tugging on the zipper. Inside is a pale pink silk gown – hardly appropriate under any circumstances. Bella snarls very quietly, her lips twisting as she drops the garment on the floor with ill-concealed frustration. Her fingers curl into claws at her sides, and from the calculating gleam in her fiery eyes, she must be planning on tearing open each and every bag until she finds something suitable to wear.

I touch her shoulder – fleetingly, so as not to encourage the reawakening hunger that is burning through my veins – and offer calmly, "Let me help." Raising my chin, I sniff at the stagnant air, testing the flavors as they swirl amidst the microscopic dust motes. It is a bit difficult to concentrate at first with Bella's alluring fragrance saturating the room, but I manage to isolate the scent that I am searching for after another slow breath. It is relatively unsophisticated: thin and woodsy, with just a hint of faded floral.

I follow its trail to the far end of the closet, where a built-in dresser occupies the entire back wall. I sniff again, and choose a drawer near the bottom, pulling it open…and I have found my quarry. Grinning in triumph, I hold up a pair of trendily faded blue jeans with a flourish.

Bella darts to my side in less than a second, her expression full of wonder. I try to keep my grin from becoming self-satisfied; it pleases me that I can still amaze my wife with such simple feats as smelling out an article of clothing. "How did you do that?" she asks, half-demanding, half-impressed.

I hand over the jeans, explaining, "Denim has its own scent just like anything else." I suppose she will need a comfortable shirt as well, though it seems taboo to cover up such exquisite beauty – but that is unavoidable at the moment. "Now…" I raise an eyebrow at her and smile. "Stretch cotton?"

Without waiting for a reply, since it was a strictly rhetorical question, I inhale deeply to pinpoint the mild earthy aroma and amble towards another half-rack near the built-in dresser. After a moment, I come across a lightweight, long-sleeved white shirt and toss it to Bella.

She beams at me with fervent gratitude. "Thanks." Then she presses her nose to both garments and breathes in, memorizing the individual scents. She tests herself a minute later – sniffing carefully as she tugs on a smaller drawer on the far left of the dresser, and paws through its contents until she unearths a plain set of lingerie.

Forcing myself to turn away while she gets dressed, I head over to my considerably smaller side of the closet and grab a pair of khakis and a beige pullover, donning them swiftly. My eyes wander sideways as I rake a hand through my rumpled hair. Bella's slight smile widens when I meet her gaze – the bright white of her shirt makes her alabaster skin luminous and contrasts strikingly with her deep brown locks – and I reclaim her hand once again.

Our movements synchronous, we run hand-in-hand out of the closet, through the bedroom and out of the glass doors that lead to the garden. Vaulting nimbly over the low stone wall, we hurdle into the waking forest at a flat-out sprint. Bella tosses me a mischievous smirk, her crimson eyes bright with a gleam of challenge, and she pulls her hand from mine just before lengthening her stride and shooting forward like an arrow.

I am not about to let her win a second time – not after being accused of throwing the game. If she wants a race, I will give her a race.

Lowering my body closer to the ground, I pump my legs at a faster rhythm, eating up the short distance between us in less than two seconds. Once I pull even with her, I raise my hand and wave a little in farewell, and then continue to gain ground, grinning into the wind when I hear Bella's moan of dismay.

Needless to say, I am across the river before she breaks out of the trees. I lean against a rough-barked spruce and cross my arms over my chest, waiting with a crooked smile as Bella lands soundlessly on the riverbank.

She rolls her eyes as she stalks past me, and I swear that she mutters irritably under her breath, "Show-off."

Suppressing a chuckle, I snake an arm around her waist and pull her to my side while we walk at a slower pace towards the house. Thankfully, she does not try to fight me off – but she does exact her own brand of vengeance as she nuzzles her face into my neck, brushing her lips along my throat to my jaw and pausing at the hollow beneath my ear to exhale lightly on the sensitive skin there. My breath hitches absurdly, as if I am dependent on it, and I am half a mind to topple her into the tall meadow grass and continue where we left off at the cottage earlier this morning.

She pulls away a beat later, wearing a superior little grin that irks me almost as much as it entices.  
A low growl ripples past my teeth. I grab Bella by the shoulders and whirl her around, backing her into the thick trunk of an ancient hemlock on the outskirts of the lawn. Her expression lights up with surprise and a sort of wild glee, but the grin has not vanished from her mouth.

I lean towards her until her heart-shaped face fills my vision and ask in a soft rumble, "Why are you _doing_ this to me?"

Her gaze widens, full of childlike innocence. "What do you mean?"

My chest vibrates with another growl that accentuates my words as I accuse, "You know exactly what I mean. Why did we even leave the cottage if you're going to undermine my endurance at every turn?"

She rests her head against the tree trunk and that vexing smile tilts to one side. "Payback," she states with satisfaction.

"For winning a race?" I exclaim, incredulous.

"No. But that was part of it." Bella shifts her footing a bit; my hands tighten automatically on her shoulders, holding her firmly in place until she explains herself.

She examines my expression for a moment, a faint frown creasing her brow, and tucks her bottom lip between her teeth. "I just wanted to see if it would work," she says meekly. "Since I'm no irritable grizzly – as you've told me before – I wanted to see if I could affect your concentration as much as you do mine."

I have the strong desire to roll my eyes out of sheer frustration, but I refrain – just barely. "You already know the answer to that question, Bella," I murmur sternly, glaring at her with disapproval.

"But everything's different now!" She seems intent on defending her actions. _"I'm_ different! I just wanted to see if it would work," she says again, her voice a little higher than normal due to stress. "I'm sorry that I upset you – that's really not the reaction I was going for, but you looked so amazing when we were running and – I wasn't thinking, I guess –"

She is rambling, which she has the tendency to do when she is anxious. Once again, I have managed to damage in spectacular fashion a perfectly wonderful moment with Bella because of my quick temper.

In truth, I am not frustrated with her unspoken invitation in and of itself, but with the fact that I cannot do anything about it at this time. Our family is waiting for us inside and Renesmee is awake, her thoughts abuzz with undisguised impatience for her mother. By tempting me, however innocently she may have intended, Bella succeeded in rousing the most selfish, greedy desires within my heart. Those desires are urging me at this very second to take my wife in my arms and whisk her off to some hidden corner of the world where no one will ever find us until we wish to be found.

Irrational, I know. But I bid farewell to rational thought the instant Bella Swan walked into that Biology classroom three years ago.

I remove one hand from her shoulders to place two fingers over her lips, halting her in mid-sentence. Her features are awash in remorse and I shake my head, self-depreciating, and mumble, "You would think that I would have a better handle on myself by now." Bella blinks in confusion, and I feel my hardened expression melt, transforming into a soft, repentant smile. "I'm not upset with you, love – quite the opposite. What bothers me is that what I _want_ does not coincide with what I _should_ do." A quiet laugh escapes me as I remark, "I often have that problem when the circumstance involves you." My fingers begin tracing the shape of her full lips, and my other hand releases its grip on her arm to gently frame her cheek. "And you should know…that you will_ always_ have a profound affect on me. Though other things may have changed, that never will." She sighs just audibly when my lips brush against hers while I whisper, "You may not be an irritable grizzly, but you are definitely the most dangerous creature I have ever met."

Our bodies become welded together in a slow, smoldering kiss. It does not take long, however, for the embers to spark like dry kindling and send a flash burn throughout my entire body, and from the way Bella presses herself against me, she must feel it too.

The hemlock tree groans in protest as it struggles to remain upright under the strain of the pressure caused by our embrace, but I simply do not care. My only reality is Bella: the fragrance of her skin, the taste of her breath, the feel of her caresses…

Then I hear my name. Not as though someone is calling me, but rather as a secondhand mention in a conversation that is underway in the living room.

"I thought you said Edward and Bella would be back by morning," Jasper comments in a low, deep voice.

"Yes."

"Well? Where are they?" Emmett is nearly as impatient as Renesmee.

Alice is barely concealing a giggle. "They're a little…sidetracked. Give them two minutes."

Intensely reluctant, I will myself to break off the kiss. Bella is breathing heavily, her hands still tangled in my hair, and I slowly remove them, explaining, "Everyone is waiting for us inside."

She slumps a little, and puts a safe yet minimal distance between us by stepping to the right, smoothing her hair with her palms. "Okay." This time, she reaches for my hand, and we make our way to the front door.

Renesmee is sitting on the hardwood floor, a pile of twisted silverware before her. Rosalie and Emmett are on either side of her; Emmett hands the little girl a soup spoon, which she promptly snatches and bends into a mangled series of curves with her tiny fingers.

As Bella and I cross the open expanse of the lawn, a light breeze stirs our clothes and hair. Ever perceptive, Renesmee notices the slight motion and her curl-shrouded head snaps up. Chocolate brown eyes locked on Bella, she flings the spoon aside – taking a small chunk out of the floor in the process – and points at her mother through the glass in wordless command. Carlisle, Esme, and the others burst into peals of laughter at the little girl's antics, their golden gazes absorbing every minute detail of the newest Cullen.

With a delighted grin, Bella darts from my side and through the door, flitting across the room in less than a second. Renesmee stretches out her tiny arms at the same time that her mother wraps her in an embrace and lifts her from the floor. They smile brightly at one another in a silent greeting.

My eyes drift over our daughter's form quickly, assessing the changes that have taken place during the night. She is still growing at an abnormal rate, but it seems that the process is continuing to slow down, which is an enormous relief.

Renesmee pats Bella's cheek with her dimpled fingers, projecting a memory of her dinner that is intense with hunger, and Bella winces in response. I immediately head into the kitchen to get Renesmee's breakfast together as Bella inquires to the room in general, "How long has she been up?"

"Just a few minutes," Rose answers. I retrieve a bag of blood from the refrigerator and pour its contents into a heavy white plastic cup as she goes on. "We would have called you soon. She's been asking for you – _demanding_ might be a better description. Esme sacrificed her second-best silver service to keep the little monster entertained." There is an affectionate warmth in Rosalie's voice as she speaks of Renesmee, and then her tone shifts into one of barely suppressed humor. "We didn't want to…er, bother you."

Emmett cackles boisterously inside his head, and his quivering shoulders cause slight vibrations to travel through the floorboards. Setting the cup in the microwave, I punch in the appropriate time and roll my eyes while the scent of heating blood fills the kitchen. Rosalie is struggling very hard not to join in with her husband's mirth and the rest of the family is dutifully keeping their thoughts to a minimum, so I easily tune them out.

Bella's sweet voice floats above the quiet whirr of the microwave as she murmurs to Renesmee, "We'll get your room set up right away. You'll like the cottage. It's magic." A sudden rush of euphoria floods my mind over her simple description of our home, and I find myself smiling like a fool as the timer ends with a shrill, drawn-out beep. Pulling out the warmed cup, I listen intently for every sound in the next room, and then Bella says, "Thank you, Esme. So much." The words burn with fervent gratitude, and my ridiculously huge smile widens, my teeth glistening in the reflection on the microwave door. "It's absolutely perfect."

I catch a brief flash of Esme's mental rejoicing just before my brother's hilarity and loud snickering drowns it out. "So it's still standing? I would've thought you two had knocked it to rubble by now," Emmett chortles, scarcely understandable even for a roomful of vampires. _I'm disappointed, kid, _he adds for my benefit. _After all those decades of waiting to get some, and you don't even break another headboard?_ His thoughts collapse into a fit of snickers, which is fortunate for him. I force my tense hand to release its grip on the spoon I was using to stir the thickening blood, and grimace when I see that my fingers have left impressions on the metal, warping the utensil.

And then, as Emmett is prone to do, he refuses to let the subject drop. "What were you doing last night?" he asks, raising his voice as though I cannot hear him perfectly already. "Discussing the national debt?" He crows with laughter. Perhaps I _will_ throw him into the river, after all…

Bella deliberately ignores his suggestive remarks, though I can tell that she is fighting to maintain a composed manner when she wonders aloud, "Where're the wolves today?"

"Jacob took off this morning pretty early," Rosalie replies. _He was in a hurry, too – and ticked off about something. As usual. _"Seth followed him out."

I pick up Renesmee's cup from the counter and carry it into the living room, glancing over at Rosalie as I ask, "What was he so upset about?" Bella's scarlet eyes latch onto my approach, mirroring her curiosity, and she holds her breath before I get close enough to tempt her with the smell of human blood.

Eagerly, Renesmee reaches for the cup as Bella hands her off to Rosalie, and my sister settles the little girl in her arms while she begins to gulp down her breakfast.

Rosalie meets my gaze and lifts her chin disdainfully. "I don't know – or care," she sniffs. I give her an annoyed look, raising an eyebrow, and she expands her account. "He was watching Nessie sleep, his mouth hanging open like the moron he is, and then he just jumped to his feet without any kind of trigger – that I noticed, anyway – and stormed out." She holds out one hand to examine her gleaming fingernails, grumbling, _"I_ was glad to be rid of him. The more time he spends here, the less chance there is that we'll ever get the smell out." Her lips twist into a sneer and her nose wrinkles in disgust. _I'm not the only one thinking it, _she states inwardly with self-assurance._ I don't need _you_ to tell me that, Edward._

"Rose," Esme chides from her place on the sofa.

Rosalie flips her curtain of pale blonde hair over a shoulder and shrugs. "I suppose it doesn't matter. We won't be here that much longer."

Emmett has recovered from his amusement at my and Bella's expense and chimes in, "I still say we should go straight to New Hampshire and get things set up." Obviously, he and Rose had been discussing our family's future plans at some point in the night. "Bella's already registered at Dartmouth." He waves a large hand towards her for emphasis, remarking, "Doesn't look like it will take her all that long to be able to handle school." His face lights up with a teasing smirk, eyes twinkling in wicked enjoyment as he looks up at her from his sprawled position on the floor. "I'm sure you'll ace your classes…apparently there's nothing interesting for you to do at night besides study."

Rosalie giggles, ducking her head in a vain attempt to hide her grin. Bella audibly grits her teeth, and her pale heart-shaped face assumes an expression of deep concentration – hoping to stem off another furious outburst, I would guess.

Though I too have had more than my fill of Emmett's innuendos in regard to my physical relationship with my wife, another part of my brain is wondering why Jacob left. He has not let Renesmee out of his sight since the imprint occurred – except when he agreed to speak to Sam – so I am curious as to what could have motivated him to run off in such a hurry early this morning.

_Wait…_ Rose and Em were talking about our move to the East Coast. Of course Jacob would not want us to leave, because that would entail his separation from Renesmee. But how does his sudden absence correspond with my siblings' conversation? What am I missing?

Jacob himself dispels my confusion as his loud, electrified thoughts blast into my brain.

For one stretched out portion of a second, there is nothing within me but the blackest rage. I cannot even form a rational thought as the vicious compulsion to rip the dog's limbs from his body causes my fingers to twitch in anticipation. My lips curl over my teeth, and an animalistic growl rasps throughout the room, startling everyone.

While the harsh sound is still reverberating off of the walls, Alice suddenly jumps to her feet, eyes wide in alarm. "What is he _doing?"_ she yelps shrilly. "What is that _dog _doing that has erased my schedule for the entire day? I can't see _anything!"_ Her stare flicks over to Bella, and her topaz eyes cloud with distress. "No! Look at you!" Alice bemoans, her attention shifting from one subject to another like quicksilver. "You _need_ me to show you how to use your closet."

Jacob is getting closer to the house – I can tell from the images I am receiving from his mind. I ball my hands into fists to stop my itching fingers from locking around his throat to choke the oxygen from his lungs. Does he have _any_ idea what this will do to my Bella? Does he even care? I have tolerated quite a bit from him since the moment he interrupted our evening at the prom, but this…this is inexcusable.

"He talked to Charlie." The words are scarcely recognizable coming from my mouth, distorted by a vicious snarl. I sense Bella's widening red eyes on my face and the bloodlust is abruptly pierced with a razor-sharp sting of anguish. My Bella…my Bella is going to suffer because of that _mongrel._ I should have run him out of town like an unwanted stray pup when I had the chance. "He thinks Charlie is following after him." Instead of dampening the rage, my anguish for Bella feeds the blazing ire like an accelerant poured over a bonfire. The darkest part of my nature begins to envision how I will proceed with the dog's demise. Simply infecting him with venom would be too short – I can be very creative when I need to be… I squeeze my fists tighter, my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands, and finish delivering my warning. "Coming here. Today."

Alice trills an expletive that, were I in a more logical frame of mind, would have resulted in my scolding her for using that kind of language in front of my daughter. In a blur of black and white, she darts from the room and out the back door, her thoughts as quick and fierce as churning rapids.

A panicked gasp filters through Bella's mouth, causing the anguish to twist like a blade inside my silent chest. "He told Charlie?" she asks hoarsely. Her scarlet eyes are so large that they consume her heart-shaped face, which is now whiter than bone. "But – doesn't he understand? How could he do that? No!"  
She is practically shrieking at this point, and more than anything I want to go to her, to offer some type of comfort…but I do not yet trust myself enough to move from this spot without acting rashly. Jacob is less than fifty yards from the front door, and I still have not decided whether or not to let him live.

Speaking through my clenched teeth, I inform her, "Jacob's on his way in now."

Right on cue, the dog throws open the door and bursts inside, shaking his drenched hair like the animal he is while mentally congratulating himself for effectively ending the life of the man who helped give my Bella to this world. With a cheerful grin, he calls from the entryway, "Hey, guys."

Silence.

The monster in my head roars, straining against the chains of self-control I have forged over the years and tinting the edges of my vision with a red haze. I hardly notice when Leah and Seth steal quietly into the room, one on either side of Jacob, their eyes flashing to each frozen face. Leah's hands immediately start to tremble in response to the tense atmosphere. Seth watches me with a mixture of bewilderment and wariness, asking a question of some kind with his thoughts…but I cannot focus long enough to offer him a reply.

He must see something – a shadow of the predator in my black glare, perhaps – for his large hands begin to quiver in tandem with his sister's more pronounced tremors.

"Rose," Bella says tersely, holding out her arms without taking her eyes off Jacob. Rosalie complies at once, her thoughts unusually reserved, and passes a wide-eyed Renesmee to her mother. Bella enfolds the little girl tightly in her arms, pressing her small body close to her chest, and the fingers of her left hand clutch at the fabric of Renesmee's shirt.

Jacob, ignorant fool that he is, seems totally oblivious to the hostility emanating from nearly every vampire in attendance. Still smiling, he ambles toward the center of the room and remarks to Bella, "Charlie'll be here soon. Just a heads-up." His gaze flits briefly to the others, noticing that someone is missing. "I assume Alice is getting you sunglasses or something?" he asks, though it is more of a statement than an actual question.

Bella's fierce stare appears to catch fire, her ruby-colored irises glowing with the heat of her wrath. "You assume _way_ too much," she grits out through her teeth, each syllable biting and shivering in the air like sputtering yellow-orange embers above a crackling fire. "What. Have. You. _Done?"_

_Huh? _The black lines of Jacob's eyebrows lower slightly in confusion, and his wide grin falters but does not disappear. "Blondie and Emmett woke me up this morning going on and on about you all moving cross-country," he explains with casual nonchalance, crossing his arms over his broad chest, and his smile turns patronizing. "Like I could let you leave. Charlie was the biggest issue there, right? Well," he shrugs, "problem solved." He is so pleased with himself – like a dog that has successfully unearthed a bone and brought it back to his master to be praised – that I have to choke back another snarl.

"Do you even _realize_ what you've done?" Bella hisses, her fingers tightening on the handful of our daughter's clothing. Renesmee nestles into the curve of Bella's shoulder, careful not to make contact with her mother's cool skin, her brown eyes full of somber observation. Bella lurches toward Jacob a fraction of a millimeter, and then locks her muscles into place, accusing, "The danger you've put him in?"

He snorts, fixing her with a dubious look. "I didn't put him in danger. Except from you." The cheery smile returns, and he waves a hand at her, commenting in an unworried tone, "But you've got some kind of supernatural self-control, right?" _That's what Edward and Carlisle said yesterday – though I think it's a cheap trade-off for the whole vampire thing. _"Not as good as mind reading, if you ask me," he adds, smirking. "Much less exciting."

My body acts on its own accord; I am suddenly standing toe-to-toe with Jacob, the foul odor of his blood blocking out all other scents, and I clench my hands even tighter to combat the desire to rip his head from his shoulders. The mask of pretense slips off my features – allowing him to see what seethes beneath the surface of my cold granite shell – and though his physical presence is greater, he leans away from me, his expression nonplussed.

Forcing back a primal explosion of noise, I salvage enough common sense to form a lucid retort, though my voice is menacing and darkened by a rough, unbroken growl. "That's just a _theory,_ mongrel. You think we should test it out on _Charlie?_ Did you consider the physical pain you're putting Bella through, even if she can resist? Or the emotional pain if she doesn't?" The small part of my essence that is not ablaze with fury cringes at the mere notion of witnessing Bella's agony, for it will be as hurtful as if it is my own – even more so, since there is nothing as excruciating than seeing her in pain and being unable to shield her from it.

And this dog, who once claimed to love my Bella, brought this unendurable pain to our doorstep.

I want his death so badly for the span of one timeless instant that it is practically a living entity, hovering around me like a wraith and conjuring violent images that the beast caged inside my skull revels in and the human side of me recoils from in horror.

The horrified emotion – knowing that if I were to destroy him, it would be seared into my daughter's memory and still cause my reason for existing to be in pain – is strong enough to cancel out the urge to kill…but only just. I settle, for the moment, on punishing him with my words.

"I suppose that what happens to Bella no longer concerns you!" I bellow the last pronoun, hurtling it through the air like a spear to impale his throbbing heart.

Renesmee broadcasts a repetition of my tirade presumably to her mother, and the memory is awash in heightened anxiety. I scarcely recognize the bronze-haired creature shouting at Jacob within her thoughts.

Jacob frowns, puzzled. Leah's whole body is shivering as she holds off the impulse to phase, and Seth continues to study my expression, a myriad of conflicting emotions in his dark eyes.  
"Bella will be in pain?" Jacob asks uncertainly, like he has no idea of the consequences his idiocy will ensue.

Snarling, I yell into his baffled face, "Like you've shoved a white-hot branding iron down her throat!"

_Calm down, Edward, _my father rebukes inside my head. Through his eyes, I see Bella wince in response to my description of what the smell of human blood does to us regardless of our lifestyle, and Renesmee hides her tiny, exquisite face in Bella's hair.

It is for their sakes and theirs alone that I push a slow, deep breath through my lungs in an effort to suppress the rampaging anger.

Jacob's black eyes glitter within the shadows of his furrowed brow, and he whispers with ashamed unease, "I didn't know that." _I swear to you, _he pleads mentally, _I didn't know. You've gotta believe me! I know she misses Charlie – he misses her, too. I was trying to help! And yeah…I don't want Nessie to leave, I admit that. What Carlisle said about Bella's gift…I thought it was legit. I didn't know seeing Charlie would hurt her…_

"Then perhaps you should have asked first," I counter sharply, answering both his spoken statement and the swift torrent of thoughts pouring from his mind.

He blinks, affronted by my uncompromising stance, and straightens, squaring his shoulders. "You would have stopped me," he snaps back.

"You _should_ have been stopped –"

Bella interrupts me in mid-rant, her wind chime voice small, colored by despair and anger and grief. "This isn't about me. This is about Charlie, Jacob. How could you put him in danger this way? Do you realize it's death or vampire life for him now, too?"

He looks over the top of my head at Bella, the hard lines on his forehead softening a bit. "Relax, Bella. I didn't tell him anything you weren't planning to tell him."

"But he's coming here!" she exclaims anxiously.

Jacob nods. "Yeah, that's the idea. Wasn't the whole 'let him make the wrong assumptions' thing your plan?" Folding his arms across his chest, he tilts his head to the side and smirks, pointing out smugly, "I think I provided a very nice red herring, if I do say so myself."

The slender white fingers gripping Renesmee's shirt loosen…then Bella's jaw flexes and she curls her hand back in place. "Say it straight, Jacob," she demands in an ominous tone. "I don't have the patience for this."

He lets out a long-suffering sigh. From the way his gaze shifts, I can tell that he is fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "I didn't tell him anything about you, Bella. Not really," he says. "I told him about _me._ Well," a grin tugs at the corners of his mouth, _"show_ is probably a better verb."

A summary of the interaction emerges inside his mind and I watch its progression, appalled – which quickly converts into a fresh burst of fury. "He phased in front of Charlie," I announce in a low hiss.  
Esme's fingers fly to her mouth, her gold eyes round in fear. Jasper floods the room with a muted level of peace, reacting to the fluctuations of my temperament and Bella's wildly diverse emotions. Carlisle warns me once again to stay in control, and Rosalie and Emmett are two ice-cold statues, wearing nearly identical expressions of apprehension. Alice is still nowhere to be found – but I can just make out the fringes of her whirling thoughts, and I have no idea what she is preparing.

"You _what?"_ Bella whispers breathlessly, her full lips parted in shocked disbelief.

Jacob remains completely unfazed, still maintaining a firm belief that he did the right thing. "He's brave," he tells Bella, and I can detect a note of pride in his deep voice. "Brave as you are. Didn't pass out or throw up or anything. I gotta say, I was impressed." He chokes back a laugh. "You should've seen his face when I started taking my clothes off, though. Priceless." He chuckles then, picturing Charlie's bewildered and unnerved look in his mind's eye.

"You absolute _moron!"_ Bella screeches at him, and his laughter abruptly dies away. She stomps her foot – the hardwood flooring groans in protest – and shouts, "You could have given him a heart attack!"

"Charlie's fine." He rolls his eyes. Bella's teeth come together with an audible snap; the knuckles of her left hand have long since turned white with the strain of her grip on Renesmee. "He's tough. If you'd give this just a minute, you'll see that I did you a favor here."

She raises her chin high, her red eyes smoldering fiercely, and modulates her voice so that it is level and as unyielding as iron. "You have half of that, Jacob. You have thirty seconds to tell me every single word before I give Renesmee to Rosalie and rip your miserable head off. Seth won't be able to stop me this time." There is no mistaking the promise of aggression in her statement. I feel contrarily pleased that she has the self-control to offer Jacob even a small percentage of clemency. If I were the day-old newborn vampire, he would already be dead.

Leah slides a step forward, tremors running up and down her bare arms – and Seth clamps a hand around her wrist, shaking his head infinitesimally. He assesses Bella with keen black-brown eyes, speculating inwardly whether or not she will make good on her threat…and wondering if I will let her.

"Jeez, Bells," Jacob complains in a perfectly blasé tone. "You didn't used to be so melodramatic. Is that a vampire thing?" _You all need to dial it down a few notches in my opinion. Good thing you can live forever, 'cause the stress would've killed you by now._

"Twenty-six seconds," Bella declares, each word clipped and razor-edged as it leaves her mouth.

He rolls his eyes again, the movement exaggerated by his lack of concern, and plops his massive frame into the nearest chair. Slumping in the seat, he places each arm on the plush rests and leaves his long legs stretched out in front of him. The two other wolves stand on either side of their pack leader, their tense stances in contradiction to Jacob's relaxed manner, and Leah does not take her eyes off Bella.

Taking a deep breath, Jacob starts in on his summary. "So I knocked on Charlie's door this morning and asked him to come for a walk with me. He was confused, but when I told him it was about you and that you were back in town, he followed me out to the woods." I monitor his thoughts carefully, but find no traces of deception in his story. By means of his vivid mental pictures, every portion of his conversation with Charlie flickers inside his head like an old film reel. "I told him you weren't sick anymore, and that things were a little weird, but good. He was about to take off to see you, but I told him I had to show him something first." He shrugs a bit. "And then I phased."

Bella bares her clenched teeth, a soft rumble issuing from the back of her throat, and enunciates meticulously as she commands, "I want every word, you monster."

"Well, you said I only had thirty seconds –" Bella's features alter swiftly, frighteningly, and she wears the face of a vampire once again. Jacob backpedals, "Okay, okay." Raising his hands in a gesture of surrender, he frowns in concentration for a moment, trying to recall the specifics of his conversation with Charlie. "Lemme see…" His eyes light up an instant later, and he recounts, "I phased back and got dressed, and then after he started breathing again, I said something like, 'Charlie, you don't live in the world you thought you lived in. The good news is, nothing has changed – except that now you know. Life'll go on the same way it always has. You can go right back to pretending that you don't believe any of this.'"

Renesmee peeks out of Bella's hair while Jacob is speaking, understanding little of the actual context but curious as to why her mother is so riveted by his words and why I am so angry.

Jacob goes on. "It took him a minute to get his head together, and then he wanted to know what was really going on with you, with the whole rare disease thing."  
I lean forward unconsciously, my eyes narrowing as I focus on his thought pattern. It is crucial that Charlie be kept completely in the dark regarding the true nature of my family – of a whole other world that his daughter is now a part of. Since Jacob is about as prudent as a five-year old, I am fairly certain that his explanation will provoke my mercurial temper, and steel myself internally for the eruption.

"I told him that you _had_ been sick," Jacob says to Bella, "but you were fine now – it was just that you'd had to change a little bit in the process of getting better. He wanted to know what I meant by 'change', and I told him that you looked a lot more like Esme now than you looked like Renée."

Because I was anticipating such a reaction, the boiling rush of fury does not overwhelm my mind. However, a sharp hiss escapes from my mouth before I can block the instinctual response. Bella's eyes pop open wide in horror, and her lower lip trembles the tiniest bit, as it used to when she was fighting against a sudden flood of tears. I almost go to her – but then she presses her lips together tightly and scowls.

Eyeing both of us for a few seconds, Jacob resumes where he left off. "After a few minutes, he asked, real quietly, if you turned into an animal, too." A broad grin brightens his russet-skinned face. "And I said, 'She wishes she was that cool!'" He laughs, and Rosalie gags in disgust. "I started to tell him more about werewolves, but I didn't even get the whole word out – Charlie cut me off and said he'd 'rather not know the specifics.' Then he asked if you'd known what you were getting yourself into when you married Edward, and I said, 'Sure, she's known all about this for years, since she first came to Forks.'" Bella cringes and looks aside like a disobedient child. Jacob smiles a little in response but does not pause, confiding, "He didn't like _that_ very much. I let him rant 'til he got it out of his system. After he got calmed down, he just wanted two things. He wanted to see you," Jacob holds up one finger, counting off Charlie's requests, "and I said it would be better if he gave me a head start to explain."

Taking a deep breath, Bella asks, "What was the other thing he wanted?"

Jacob smiles, unduly pleased, and affirms, "You'll like this." He holds up another finger. "His main request is that he be told as little as possible about_ all_ of this. If it's not absolutely essential for him to know something, then keep it to yourself. Need to know, only."

Ever so slightly, the hard, ice-like lines of Bella's features defrost. "I can handle that part," she agrees.

_She's starting to get it, _Jacob exults to himself, and says aloud, "Other than that, he'd just like to pretend things are normal." His smile tilts to one side, radiating smugness as he beams at her. He thinks that he's won her over – and perhaps he has, I admit, while I study Bella's expression from the corner of my eye – but I have yet to be convinced. And judging from the skepticism permeating the majority of the thoughts in this room, my family is in a similar frame of mind.

"What did you tell him about Renesmee?" Bella blurts out unexpectedly. Her tone is still sharp, but the rigid stance of her body has softened a great deal in the last few seconds. I notice that the fire in her eyes is waning like guttering candles, and then I fully understand just how much it would mean to her to have Charlie in her life again. The innate need to give her whatever she desires flares inside my chest – but I quash it momentarily with the fact that this is still an incredibly dangerous situation – and the urge to protect overpowers that need.

"Oh yeah," Jacob remarks, his smug smile fading a little. "So I told him that you and Edward had inherited a new little mouth to feed." He glances at me, gauging the hard cast to my features, and elaborates, "She's your orphaned ward – like Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson." _It sounded good to me…and a lot more believable than the truth. _He snorts quietly. "I didn't think you'd mind me lying. That's all part of the game, right?" His eyes dart over to my face again. I do not respond in any way, so he returns to ignoring me and focuses on Bella. "Charlie was way past being shocked at this point, but he did ask if you were adopting her. 'Like a daughter? Like I'm sort of a grandfather?' were his exact words."

Bella's stare glitters in the strangest way as he quotes her father's words, and her lower lip begins to tremble. Jacob grins at her warmly. "I told him yes," he pronounces. "'Congrats, Gramps,' and all of that. He even smiled a little."

She blinks several times, as though human tears are obscuring her view, and her voice quavers with emotion as she whispers, "But she's changing so fast."

"I told him that she was more special than all of us put together." Jacob's gaze transfers to Renesmee, who has been watching him attentively throughout his narrative, and his expression becomes almost worshipful. Standing up fluidly, he walks over to Bella; Leah scrambles forward, and Seth takes a step in the same direction, but he motions for them to stay put. Renesmee lifts a dimpled hand towards Jacob as he approaches, but Bella's arms tighten around our daughter, holding her in place. "I told him," Jacob murmurs softly, "'Trust me, you don't want to know about this. But if you can ignore all the strange parts, you're going to be amazed. She's the most wonderful person in the whole world.'" He offers a fond grin to Renesmee, and she responds with her unique, glittering smile. Then he pulls his attention from the little girl and looks at Bella – and the look in his eyes changes, shifting from the reverential gleam he only grants to Renesmee to a more affectionate twinkle that seems more…_familial _than any other look I have seen him give Bella.

"And then I told him that if he could deal with that, you all would stick around for a while and he would have a chance to get to know her. But that if it was too much for him, you would leave," Jacob remarks, a little half-smile curving his mouth, and then he adds, "He said as long as no one forced too much information on him, he'd deal."

He raises his thick black eyebrows and stares at Bella for a moment or so, waiting for her response. The rest of us are in the same position. Since this is about her father, Bella is the ultimate authority as to how this will play out.

She stares up at Jacob, her stern frown almost comical in its feigned displeasure, and informs him stubbornly, "I'm not going to say thank you. You're still putting Charlie at a huge risk."

"I _am_ sorry about it hurting you," he apologizes, his voice ringing with sincerity. "I didn't know it was like that." Inching closer another half step, his dark eyes wide and earnest, he expresses to her gently, "Bella, things are different with us now, but you'll always be my best friend, and I'll always love you." My family shoots concerned glances at me, but they have no reason to feel alarmed. I can see and hear the rest of his explanation in my head – and it seems as though the world is finally set in its proper course as he says, "But I'll love you the right way now. There's finally a balance. We _both_ have people we can't live without." He smiles, the expression one of true kinship, and asks, "Still friends?"

Bella holds onto her glower for another fraction of a second, and then she smiles back at him, though it is small and a bit tense. Jacob takes it for what it is – a concession. He holds out a large red-brown hand in the universal symbol of accord. Bella inhales a deep breath and transfers Renesmee's weight to her right arm. Placing her left hand in Jacob's, the contrasting shades of alabaster and russet displayed prominently in the gesture, she declares, "If I don't kill Charlie tonight, I'll consider forgiving you for this."

To which he counters boldly, _"When_ you don't kill Charlie tonight, you'll owe me huge."

She rolls her eyes and releases his hand. He instantly raises the other, looking between her and Renesmee with a beseeching gaze. "Can I?"

Shaking her head in the negative, Bella turns her upper body so that Renesmee is angled further away from Jacob as she tells him in a no-nonsense manner, "I'm actually holding her so that my hands aren't free to kill you, Jacob. Maybe later."

He sighs, defeated, and drops his hands. I feel the beginnings of a smile crack the cold mask on my face, though the fleeting amusement does nothing to allay my fears for Bella and the extreme test of willpower that she is about to undertake. I will do whatever I must to ensure her safety and that of my family – however, the original contingency that had been brewing in the back of my mind is now null and void in light of Bella's reaction to news of her father. She wants to see him again, which I already knew, but now I have a clearer picture of just how strong that wish is.  
The standard rules of newborn behavior do not apply to Bella, and the knowledge feeds the sprouting tendril of hope winding around my silent heart that perhaps I have been granted another opportunity to restore to her a sacrifice she was willing to live with forever.

We all will be walking along the edge of a knife, to be sure…but I have faith in my Bella. She can do this.

A hurricane of images and thoughts bombard me all of a sudden, and I recognize the flavor of my previously absent sister's mind. Alice scurries through the back door, carrying a small white box in each hand, and the look on her pixie-like face is quite violent. Pinning a fierce amber-eyed glare on the wolves, she snaps, "You, you, and you. If you must stay, get over in the corner and commit to being there for a while. I need to _see."_ As she makes her way into the living room, her stare flickers to the side and she recommends in a slightly calmer voice, "Bella, you'd better give him the baby, too. You'll need your arms free, anyway."

Jacob beams, triumphant, but I scarcely notice. Bella's eyes grow wide, flooding with terror, and her chest rises and falls rapidly as she breathes in short, frantic gasps. "Take her," she mouths so low that I can barely hear her, and passes Renesmee to Jacob mechanically, her gaze unfocused.

He nods, enfolding the little girl securely in the circle of his arms, lines appearing on his forehead as he watches Bella with concern. Gesturing to his pack, Jacob retreats to the far corner of the room by the windows and sinks cross-legged onto the hardwood floor. Seth copies his posture without delay – but Leah frowns, shaking her head, and grumbles to Jacob, "Am I allowed to leave?"

The she-wolf has always been ill at ease inside my family's home – or anywhere near a vampire, for that matter. She tolerates our proximity because of her link to Jacob, and because of her brother's friendship with me, though she finds it offensive. It might be better, I muse, if she were not present for Charlie's impending visit; her hands are still trembling with the compulsion to phase, and I have little patience for the girl since she verbally attacked my wife four days ago.

Jacob gives her a once-over – and I can tell from his expression that we are in agreement. "Of course," he replies.

Alice speaks up, chirping, "Stay east so you don't cross Charlie's path." _I can't afford any more holes in my visions. We _have_ to keep Charlie safe._

Leah acknowledges no one as she tromps out the door and vanishes into the underbrush, phasing into her wolf form as soon as she is out of sight.

Bella is gazing wide-eyed at something unseen, her body locked in place as though carved from ice, and air flows almost hysterically through her lungs.

I am at her side before another breath leaves her lips. Taking her face into my hands, I gently stroke her ghostly white cheeks with my thumbs, silently willing her to meet my eyes. When her crimson irises remain clouded with dread, I murmur to her soothingly, instilling as much conviction as I can muster into my words, "You can do this. I know you can." _Please, love…look at me, _I beg inwardly, and then I vow aloud, "I'll help you; we all will."

The panic-stricken haze in her eyes clears a little and she blinks, finally looking at me. Gazing relentlessly into her frightened stare, I continue to caress her face, assuring her in a soft, resolute tone, "If I didn't believe you could handle it, we'd disappear today. This very minute." My contingency plan – now rendered obsolete by the unspoken needs of the precious woman in front of me. Smiling a bit, I go on, declaring, "But you can. And you'll be happier if you can have Charlie in your life."

She holds her breath, concentrating on my eyes, and then exhales shakily. I listen to her breathe for several seconds, and note with some degree of relief that it is more steady than before.

_There's only six minutes left until Charlie gets here, Edward, _Alice distracts me. _She needs to get ready._

I stifle a sigh and remove my hands from Bella's face, stepping to the side as Alice holds out one of the white boxes resting on her tiny palm. "These will irritate your eyes," she explains. "They won't hurt, but they'll cloud your vision. It's annoying." Her nose wrinkles at the memory of her own experience with contact lenses. "They also won't match your old color, but it's still better than bright red, right?" She flips the box into the air and Bella catches it deftly, glancing first at Alice, then at the white container in her hands.

"When did you –" She starts to asks, perplexed.

"Before you left on the honeymoon," Alice replies briskly, and shrugs. "I was prepared for several possible futures."  
My sister had successfully hidden most of them from me – dampening her thoughts until they were practically nonexistent or drowning out the specifics with a ceaseless stream of Chinese poetry – but I had managed to glimpse one brief vision a week before the wedding.  
Alice was up to her elbows in decorating themes, flower arrangements, and guest lists when it hit her. Flickering images of bleached white sand, blinding sunshine, turquoise water and palm trees confirmed to me where I was taking Bella for our honeymoon. Victorious, I had sailed into Esme's studio seconds later and asked if we could borrow her island for a few weeks.

Alice refused to speak to me for two days afterward, but eventually she admitted that her lapse had been helpful to the both of us.

Bella nods, absentminded, and opens the little box. Pulling out one set of contacts, she balances a tinted sphere on her fingertip and presses it into her right eye. Almost immediately, her face twists in discomfort, and she blinks involuntarily in rapid succession. "I see what you mean," she mumbles, and pops the other one into her left eye. After that, she looks at me, smiling slightly. "How do I look?"

Logically, I know that she is asking about the color of her eyes…but frankly, it matters very little to me if her eyes are bright red, chocolate brown, or pitch black. She will always be more beautiful than all the stars in the sky. So I tell her with an adoring smile, "Gorgeous. Of course –"

"Yes, yes, she always looks gorgeous," Alice interrupts snippily. Crossing her arms, she cocks her head to the side and studies Bella's face with critical intensity. "It's better than red, but that's the highest commendation I can give. Muddy brown. Your brown was much prettier." She skips forward and takes the box of contacts from Bella's hand, then she points a finger in her face, advising, "Keep in mind that those won't last forever – the venom in your eyes will dissolve them in a few hours. So if Charlie stays longer than that, you'll have to excuse yourself to replace them. Which is a good idea anyway, because humans need bathroom breaks." Alice shakes her head over the many frailties of the human race, and then spins on heel, glancing at the sofa as she flits past. "Esme, give her a few pointers on acting human while I stock the powder room with contacts."

"How long do I have?" My mother asks in her usual soft-spoken manner.

"Charlie will be here in five minutes," Alice calls from the main staircase. "Keep it simple."

Esme nods once and gracefully rises from the sofa, gliding over to take Bella's hand in both of hers. "The main thing is not to sit too still or move too fast," she says in a gentle tone, smiling encouragingly.

"Sit down if he does," Emmett butts in. Shrugging to himself, he adds, "Humans don't like to just stand there."

Then Jasper suggests, "Let your eyes wander every thirty seconds or so. Humans don't stare at one thing for too long."

Bella nods at each of my brothers, seeming to absorb their behavioral hints, while I glare at the two of them in irritation. The last thing Bella needs right now is to become overwhelmed with helpful tips as to how she should act around Charlie. Esme is completely at ease about the interruption – she simply holds Bella's hand, offering silent support through her kind gold eyes.

Not one to be left out, Rosalie puts in her two cents. "Cross your legs for about five minutes, then switch to crossing your ankles for the next five." Bella's dark head bobs in response.

"And blink at least three times a minute," Emmett remarks, and then looks around the room with a slight frown. _It's too tense in here – Charlie will notice something's off. _He darts to the opposite side of the living room, snatching the TV remote from the end table, and turns on the enormous screen. Flipping through the channels, he finds a college football game and leaves it on, nodding to himself in satisfaction.

In the meantime, Jasper says to Bella, "Move your hands, too. Brush your hair back or pretend to scratch something."

Alice dances back into the room, an annoyed scowl on her elfin face. "I said _Esme,"_ she complains. None of the others are feeling the least bit guilty for interrupting – if anything, they are certain that their words have been beneficial. "You'll overwhelm her," Alice scolds, and I nod at her in acquiescence.

"No," Bella disagrees, "I think I got it all." Then she recites, "Sit, look around, blink, fidget."

"Right." Esme wraps her arms around Bella's shoulders in a light hug, and in the tiniest part of a second before her face is hidden by my mother's caramel-colored hair, her composed expression fragments into one of palpable dread. But when Esme withdraws, the porcelain mask is once again in place.

Her eyes give her away, though. The glittering, now brown irises are darkened by anxiety, and darting in so many directions that she must be trying to stretch her new mind to its full capacity – concentrating on a number of things all at once so she will not fall into a state of panic.

Before I can offer my own reassurance, Jasper inserts with a frown, "You'll be holding your breath as much as possible, but you need to move your shoulders a little to make it _look_ like you're breathing."

Bella inhales once, deeply, and nods. Setting her mouth into a firm line, she squares her shoulders and lifts her chin in determination. Her eyes are still reflecting a sort of wild fear, untamed and unfocused.

I circle her waist with an arm, pulling her to my side, and murmur softly into her ear, "You can do this."

"Two minutes," Alice announces, shooing Carlisle and Jasper off the sofa, and then she hurries over to Bella and I. "Maybe you should start out already on the couch," my sister recommends. "You've been sick, after all. That way he won't have to see you move right at first."

Grasping Bella's limp hands, she pulls her towards the sofa, and I let my arm slide from her waist. I have to stifle a chuckle when I see Bella attempt to move more slowly, overly exaggerating her footsteps to appear as though she is tired – or, more appropriately, like her old self: mortal and clumsy.

Actually, she looks like a dancer struggling to learn the complicated footwork of a new routine. It is incredibly endearing.

Alice rolls her eyes at her favorite sister's antics._ Honestly…only Bella would find a way to make a vampire into comic relief, _she gripes mentally, and deposits Bella in the center of the pale-colored sofa.

Once she is settled, Bella looks across the room to where the two wolves are remaining as inconspicuous as possible, and says quietly, "Jacob, I need Renesmee."

He frowns at her, shifting his hold on our daughter unconsciously, and Alice shakes her head in denial. "Bella, that doesn't help me see," she reminds her in a firm voice.

"But I _need_ her." Desperation and panic leak into Bella's tone, and her eyes flicker rapidly from Alice to me to Renesmee, her breath hitching in her throat. "She keeps me calm," she adds, pleading.

Alice surrenders, groaning, "Fine. Hold her as still as you can and I'll _try_ to see around her." She heaves a sigh and perches on the chair closest to the door, her lips turned down at the corners glumly.

Jacob sighs as well, and picks himself up from the floor. He heads for the sofa and carefully places Renesmee into Bella's waiting arms. Alice glowers ferociously at him when he lingers a few seconds longer than necessary – thus obscuring her vision of the future – and he quickly retreats back to the far corner beside Seth.

In a few quick movements, I fill the space on Bella's right side. Mother and daughter look on curiously as I put one arm around my wife's shoulders and rest the other on top of her hold around Renesmee. Leaning forward, I meet my daughter's eyes seriously – and as I expected, Renesmee perceives a difference in my gaze and stares back, unblinking and attentive.

"Renesmee," I murmur her name in a quiet, solemn voice, "someone special is coming to see you and your mother." Interest sparks inside her mind, but her tiny face is composed into an expression that would be more appropriate on a mature adult as she waits for me to continue. "But he's not like us, or even like Jacob," I tell her. "We have to be very careful with him. You shouldn't tell him things the way you tell us."

Renesmee presses her palm to the edge of my jaw, envisioning the motion with childlike inquisitiveness.

"Exactly," I confirm, nodding once. "And he's going to make you thirsty." I let my eyes widen a bit in significance, cautioning her gravely, "But you mustn't bite him. He won't heal like Jacob."

Bella's breath caresses my cheek while she whispers, puzzled, "Can she understand you?"

"She understands," I reply, not breaking eye contact with the little girl. She comprehends far more than anyone expects or imagines from one so young to this world. "You'll be careful, won't you, Renesmee?" I ask, lifting my forefinger to trace the spiral shape of a bronze-colored curl tickling Renesmee's flushed cheek. "You'll help us?"

She touches my face again. An image of Jacob wincing painfully as she sinks her sharp, perfect teeth into the flesh on his broad shoulder fills my head, accompanied by an unspoken question.

I smile at her lightly, assuring, "No, I don't care if you bite Jacob. That's fine." As of right now, I would not care in the slightest if Renesmee decided to decorate the dog's skin with tiny crescent-shaped bite marks. But I would never let her drain him dry; his blood is certainly not a source of good nutrition.

Jacob chuckles, perversely delighted with Renesmee's preference for him as her personal plaything, and I shoot a deadly glare to where he lounges in the far corner like a disobedient pet. Icy resentment coats my words as I growl, "Maybe you should leave, Jacob."  
Bella may have forgiven him for his stupidity in involving Charlie with our family again, but I have not. Regardless of whether or not she can control herself, the venom will still scorch her throat when she smells her father's blood, and I cannot tolerate anything that causes my Bella to feel pain.

Jacob remains completely nonchalant, waving a large brown hand lazily as he remarks, "I told Charlie I'd be here. He needs the moral support."

My lips twist in contempt. "Moral support," I scoff, and the itch in my fingers returns, provoking me to throttle him. I lean further into Bella and tighten my hold around her shoulders. There has been far too much rash behavior this morning, and I am not about to add to it. "As far as Charlie knows, you're the most repulsive monster of us all," I retort derisively.

"Repulsive?" he objects – and then, ridiculously, sniggers under his breath. _You really are not a dog person, are you? _he jokes mentally, his good humor almost impossible to shatter, and I block him with a simple act of concentration.

The tension in the room spikes dramatically as the soft crunch of damp earth under a set of tires echoes from the long drive to the house. Bella starts to breathe rapidly again – a speed that would constitute hyperventilating in a human – and Jasper strives to create a more peaceful atmosphere while battling so many different focal points of anxiety.

Quite suddenly, Bella pulls Renesmee closer to her chest and lays her cheek on the crown of our daughter's head, an intense gleam in her dark eyes. I study her expression, wondering what she is doing, for it seems like she is listening to something – and whatever it is, it has a remarkable calming effect. Her gasping slows, and a look of relief briefly crosses her troubled face.

Jasper picks up on the change in her emotions and voices his approval in a low whisper. "Well done, Bella."

I tighten my arm around her, adding my own wordless praise, and she lifts her head to see my eyes. Lingering traces of panic and uncertainty darken her gaze, and she searches my face as she asks, "You're sure?"

"Positive," I answer with a gentle smile. "You can do _anything."_ Bending over that last little bit of space between us, I press my lips to hers.  
My intention had been to administer a quick kiss to boost her self-assurance…but I grossly underestimated our combined restraint.

The instant that the soft feel of her mouth on mine, the taste of her on my tongue registers, every nerve in my body explodes with undeniable craving. It is more potent that the instinct to hunt for blood. My hand travels up her shoulder to her neck, my palm cupping the hollow beneath her ear while my fingers thread into her silky brown hair. Her arms shift minutely under mine, like she wants to return my embrace – and then appear to lock in place on her lap. In a fleeting moment of clarity, I remember whom she is already holding in her arms: our precious baby.

I try half-heartedly to break off, but Bella will have none of it. She follows my backward motion, the tip of her tongue running over my lower lip, and I cease my efforts to withdraw.

Riotous laughter that sounds suspiciously like Emmett reverberates inside my skull, and Jasper speaks up, his tone a mixture of suppressed mirth and exasperation, "Er, Edward, you might not want to distract her like that right now." _I feel inclined to add the word 'please'. Save it for later. _"She needs to be able to focus," he concludes firmly.

I augment my deteriorating willpower and pull away, grinning sheepishly. "Oops."

Bella laughs, the delightful sound tickling my ears, and there is no doubt in my mind as to what she is thinking, for the memory now fills my awareness as well. Our very first kiss, surrounded by a lush blanket of springy green ferns, the trees of the forest singing around us…

_How far we've come,_ I marvel inwardly.

Making promises with her smoldering eyes, Bella says to me in a soft murmur, "Later."

I swear my cold, silent heart leaps within my ribcage in response to that one word, and the electricity crackling between our bodies shocks the muscles in the pit of my stomach, knotting them into a tight ball.

"Focus, Bella," Jasper insists. _You too, Edward, _he berates me in his thoughts. _I expect the lack of self-control from her – not from you._

Looking over at him, I shrug just noticeably, unapologetic. The way I see it, Bella and I are exacting a sort of poetic justice on the members of our family. For over ninety years I have had to endure their thoughts, every loving glance, each tender caress, and I did so without a qualm – for the most part. Now it is _their_ turn to display some tolerance.

But we do need to focus. Charlie is nearly to the house.

Bella understands the gravity of the situation more than anyone else. Nodding to herself, she inhales deeply and says, "Right." Except her gaze skitters sideways, tracing over my features, my skin warming under the sensation…

"Bella," my brother scolds.

She jumps a little, averting her eyes, and flinches in embarrassment. "Sorry, Jasper."

Emmett laughs. _This is gonna be fun,_ he thinks, smirking wickedly.

The steady thrum of an engine looms ever closer. Everyone grows still, looking out the windows. Bella crosses and uncrosses her legs, practicing how to act human. Renesmee fiddles with a strand of her mother's hair, though her brown eyes keep flashing up to me and around the room as she reacts to the nervous tension hovering above us despite Jasper's attempts to dampen it.

All of us listen to the cruiser pulling in front of the house – the engine idling for a few seconds before being turned off – and then a door slams. Charlie's thoughts are partially obscured from my gift, which has always been the case, but I have no trouble interpreting the snarls of stress, betrayal, and justifiable anger permeating his mind.

Bella's father stomps across the lawn, up the wooden stairs, and along the porch to the front door. He stops, taking two deep breaths, and his jacket rustles softly as he raises his fist, rapping his knuckles on the door.

Bella inhales slowly, preparing to hold her breath. Renesmee huddles in her arms, hiding her face in Bella's dark tresses, and I lay my hand on her soft ringlets comfortingly.

_I'll get it, _Carlisle volunteers, and walks to the door, transforming the frozen edginess on his face to resemble a smile of welcome. Opening the door, my father inclines his head, the gesture believably abashed, and greets our visitor. "Hello, Charlie."

Through Carlisle's eyes, I observe the stern frown on Charlie's face and the tightening around his dark eyes. "Carlisle," he says, nodding curtly. Not one to beat around the bush, he then demands, "Where's Bella?" Fierce worry saturates his half-visible thoughts as he says his only child's name.

"Right here, Dad," she calls, and grimaces at the obvious musical timbre of her new voice. She breathes in again quickly, replenishing the air in her lungs so she can speak.

Carlisle steps aside, allowing Charlie a full view of the living room, and the blank look on his face remains until he spots Bella next to me on the sofa. Eyes widening, his every emotion covers his worn features even as they scream through his mind and broadcast with perfect transparency to Jasper.

Shock over her new, flawless face gives way to disbelief that she is indeed his daughter and not some look-alike stranger. A pained wince contorts his mouth when something in her clear-eyed stare affirms her identity, and the corners of his eyes crinkle with a wrenching stab of loss.

In that split second of time, I receive an amazingly vivid image from Charlie's mind – the first ever, as I recall. The image is of a young woman on the cusp of adulthood, brown hair swirling around her slender shoulders, her cheeks flushed, and she smiles fondly. Her mouth moves, forming words that I cannot hear, but I am fairly apt at lip reading. _"I'm really glad I came to live with you, Dad. It was the best idea I ever had."_

Charlie's expression clouds with pain, his glare blazes with anger, and the surprising doorway into his mind closes abruptly, leaving me with conflicted feelings.

Bella bites her lower lip, her gaze locked on her father's immobile figure, and waits for him to speak.

"Is that you, Bella?" Charlie whispers, hesitant and aggrieved.

"Yep." She cringes again, though not as obviously, at the sound of her chiming tone. "Hi, Dad."

He takes in a deep, slow breath, trying to steady himself. Jacob waves cheerily from the far side of the room, calling out, "Hey, Charlie. How're things?" He grins widely, black eyes glittering.

Charlie scowls in Jacob's direction – and then shudders, remembering what had happened in the woods. Looking away swiftly, he returns his shocked stare to Bella and walks into the house.

He does not stop until he is less than three feet from us. He fixes me with a brief, accusing glower, which has been a standard between us since I returned with Bella from Italy – though he had made his best effort to avoid that reaction when it became apparent that I would be his son-in-law – and then looks back at Bella. "Bella?" he asks again, as though repeating it will help him to believe.

Her expression is gentle, almost conciliatory. "It's really me," she replies quietly. Charlie clenches his teeth, his jaw muscles bunching. "I'm sorry, Dad," Bella offers, genuinely apologetic.

"Are you okay?" he demands. The first question out of any parent's mouth after a child's unexpected absence. I realize at that moment that Charlie had believed Jacob's claim that Bella was all right – he only wanted to determine it with his own eyes, to save his crumbling sanity.

Bella bobs her head, promising, "Really and truly great. Healthy as a horse." She gives him a tight-lipped smile, careful not to show her brilliant white teeth.

I chance a glance at her from the corner of my eye, worrying inwardly. She has to be out of air by now – which means that she will have to breathe, though the entire room is rapidly becoming infused with the scent and warmth of Charlie's blood.

"Jake told me this was…necessary," Charlie grounds out the word with deep skepticism, running his eyes meaningfully up and down her seated form. "That you were dying."

Bella tenses under my arm. Her hold around Renesmee constricts, and she leans into my chest for support. Then, she inhales a deep breath.

The barely concealed flinch of agony distorts her pale, lovely face, and the brown contacts do nothing to disguise the sudden gleam of excitement in her eyes. But that emotion fades an instant later, batted aside by an ironclad resolve. I hug her shoulders, empathizing with her inner struggle more than she will ever know, and Jacob gives her a remorseful look from across the room, apologizing again with his thoughts.

Bella looks down, her small hands fisting around our daughter, and when she glances up at Charlie, she is herself again. "Jacob was telling you the truth," she replies evenly.

Charlie crosses his arms, a deep frown etching lines on his face. "That makes one of you," he retorts. Bella's expression falls, crumpling with guilt. Renesmee abruptly sniffs, becoming aware of Charlie's scent in the closed-off area, and Bella glances down at her anxiously, her arms tightening in response. Charlie notices his daughter's momentary distraction, and looks directly at the baby in Bella's lap for the first time since he arrived. "Oh," he breathes, surprised. "This is her. The orphan Jacob said you're adopting."

I speak up, laying the foundation for the cover story I had come up with for such a scenario. "My niece," I lie with ease. It is more straightforward to claim that Renesmee and I are related; the resemblance between us is too prominent to simply disregard. My only misgiving is if Charlie looks at her full in the face, because it will become glaringly apparent to him that the little girl has Bella's bright chocolate brown eyes – eyes whose deep color she had inherited from him.

Charlie blinks at me, stunned, but he recovers quickly. "I thought you'd lost your family," he counters suspiciously, the accusation returning to his stare.

"I lost my parents," I tell him, my voice smooth and inoffensive. Decades of practicing deceit come into play as I relay my fabricated tale. "My older brother was adopted, like me. I never saw him after that. But the courts located me when he and his wife died in a car accident, leaving their only child without any other family."

_Damn, kid…_ Emmett commends me inside his head._ If I didn't know better, I'd believe you._

My brother is remarkably susceptible to falsehood – the price for his unshakable loyalty – but I appreciate the vote of confidence, nonetheless.

I can sense Bella's eyes on my face, and I scrutinize her expression through my mother's thoughts. She appears politely attentive, though I can easily read the amazed admiration in her gaze. I am confident that Charlie will not be able to determine that I am lying by looking at his daughter.

Renesmee peeks out shyly from Bella's hair, sniffing again. Peering up at Charlie through lowered eyelashes, she meets his gaze for half a second before hiding her face once more.

Charlie seems staggered. I wonder absently if that was how we all looked upon our first glimpse of Renesmee. "She's…" He clears his throat. "She's, well, she's a beauty."

I agree wholeheartedly, "Yes."

"Kind of a big responsibility, though," he remarks, eyes flickering from me to Bella and back again.  
I get the impression that he is trying to find out if I persuaded my wife to take up the role of motherhood without her consent. I have to smother a chuckle, pressing my lips together tightly. It was the other way around, by my reckoning. _Bella_ was the one who had done the persuading for us to become parents, though Charlie would probably never believe that. In his eyes, I am the undeserving wretch who won his daughter's love, broke her heart, and then begged for another chance – which she granted, because her love is constant.

I cannot argue with his logic.

"You two are just getting started," he goes on suggestively, hoping to draw out some sort of response that will help him make sense of his day so far.

"What else could we do?" I frame the rhetorical question, looking away from him to brush my fingertips along Renesmee's cheek. The one eye I can see watches my face from under strands of dark hair. She is thinking about the appetizing smell coming from our visitor, thirst prickling the back of her throat, and I touch her puckered lips for a second, reminding her of my earlier words.

Diverting my attention back to Charlie, I glance up at him, inquiring with just the right amount of innocence, "Would you have refused her?"

"Hmph." He shuffles his feet, irked that I have successfully deflected his poorly crafted verbal trap. I feel no satisfaction though; honestly, I do not like the necessity of misleading this man, for he is as much a part of my family as my parents or any of my siblings – even more so, since he is my wife's father and my daughter's grandfather.

"Well." Charlie shakes his head, determined to move on in the conversation, and clears his throat again. "Jake says you call her Nessie?"

"No, we don't," Bella contradicts sharply, frowning. "Her name is Renesmee."

He glances up from Renesmee's gleaming bronze curls to meet Bella's eyes. "How do you feel about this?" he asks bluntly. I have to admire Charlie's forthright manner – it reminds me of his daughter.

"Maybe Carlisle and Esme could –" he starts to propose.

Bella's heart-shaped face glows with a fervent light, and her eyes burn like twin stars as she cuts her father off in mid-sentence. "She's mine. I _want_ her."

Charlie frowns at her, a ripple of confusion flowing through his mind. Then he asks, grim-faced, "You gonna make me a grandpa so young?" A bushy black eyebrow arches ever so slightly over one dark eye.

"Carlisle is a grandfather, too," I point out with a smile.

Throwing an incredulous glance at my father, Charlie snorts to himself and then laughs, the sound a bit shaky. "I guess that does sort of make me feel better," he admits. As though magnetically drawn, his eyes wander back to Renesmee. "She sure is something to look at," he murmurs softly, leaning forward a few inches to get a better glimpse. His warm exhale fills the air in front of us, and Bella stiffens against my side.

Renesmee wriggles in Bella's arms, sniffing once, and raises her head. Turning sideways, she tilts her small, angelic face upward – looking at Charlie straight on with open fascination.

For one infinite second, Charlie's mind is totally blank. His wide-eyed stare connects with Renesmee's curious gaze and he gasps, immediately noticing her uncanny likeness to Bella, as I had predicted.

His heart begins to pound out a disjointed, too-fast rhythm, and his breath comes and goes rapidly, making all of us worry for his health. Lips trembling, he counts silently backwards, mouthing the numbers – but there is no way that a normal nine-month human pregnancy can fit into four weeks.

His thoughts are even more chaotic than his heartbeat. The half-hidden notions are a tangle of emotion, pouring into one another like a whirlpool inside his skull.

Bella watches him with fearful concern, shooting a wild, pleading glance at Jasper…but my brother is already doing all he can without physically touching Charlie to keep his emotional state from imploding.

In that instant, Jacob stands up and trots briskly across the room, his bare feet thudding soundlessly on the hardwood floor. Patting Charlie on the back – he jumps a little at the gesture – Jacob bends over and whispers in a soothing voice, "Need to know, Charlie. It's okay. I promise."

Charlie swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing spastically against the exposed skin of his throat, and he nods once. Dazed eyes blink several times and refocus on me – and Charlie's entire demeanor alters in the span of one heartbeat. A thundercloud of anger gathers over his face, his brown irises flash beneath a lowered brow, and he takes one step closer to the sofa, clenching his fists at his sides until the knuckles whiten with the strain.

"I don't want to know everything," he growls, increasing in volume with every word, "but I'm done with the lies!" His chest expands as he heaves a deep breath, glaring down at me in what he perceives to be a threatening manner. And perhaps it would be – to an average young man facing down the righteous fury of his fiercely protective father-in-law. But I am far from average.

Meeting his blazing stare with a calm, level gaze, I reply sincerely, "I'm sorry, but you need to know the public story more than you need to know the truth. If you're going to be part of this secret, the public story is the one that counts." Then I play my trump card – appealing to his unwavering devotion to Bella's safety and wellbeing. "It's to protect Bella and Renesmee as well as the rest of us. Can you go along with the lies for them?"

The room is deathly quiet, every eye fixed on Charlie as he analyzes my response and the evidence before him in his head. No one moves, and those who find it unnecessary to breathe remain frozen in place – except for Bella, who crosses her ankles.

After an unbearably tense minute, Charlie huffs grumpily, and his hands relax from their tight fists. His glare shifts to the side, but loses some of its burning intensity as he complains to Bella, "You might've given me some warning, kid."

"Would it really have made this any easier?" she counters gently.

His eyebrows come together, creating deep furrows on his forehead, and then he crouches down in front of his daughter, bringing himself eye-to-eye with Renesmee. She smiles her dazzling smile and reaches out to him with a tiny hand. Bella reacts instantly, pulling her further into her chest and away from Charlie. Scowling in frustration, Renesmee presses her other hand to her mother's neck, showing her Charlie's face and coloring it with thirst and curiosity. There is a sharpness to the little girl's shared thought, indicating that she fully intends to obey my instructions – she only wants Bella to know that although she is thirsty, she understands that Charlie is strictly off-limits.

Charlie is staring open-mouthed at Renesmee's perfect, gleaming teeth. "Whoa," he gasps. "How old is she?"

"Um…" Bella stalls nervously.

I rescue her by answering, "Three months. Rather," I explain slowly, studying Charlie's expression while I speak, "she's the size of a three-month-old, more or less. She's younger in some ways, more mature in others."

Renesmee moves her outstretched hand in a deliberate wave, still smiling radiantly. Charlie blinks, his eyelids fluttering madly as though trying to awaken from a dream as he stares at his granddaughter.

Grinning in triumph, Jacob elbows him playfully in the ribs, teasing, "Told you she was special, didn't I?" When Charlie shies away from the contact, he groans, rolling his eyes like an exasperated teen. "Oh, c'mon, Charlie. I'm the same person I've always been. Just pretend this afternoon didn't happen," he suggests, his grin slanting into a lopsided smirk.

Charlie pales, the whites of his eyes standing out in clear contrast while he looks over at Jacob, but then he appears to brace himself and dips his head in a terse nod. A flicker of puzzlement crosses his features as he watches Jacob's attention drift to Renesmee. Maybe he is wondering why the young man's entire countenance glows with profound adoration while gazing at Bella's daughter – but he dispels that assumption a moment later by asking, "Just what _is_ your part in all this, Jake? How much does Billy know?" Charlie's eyes narrow the tiniest bit in suspicion. "Why are you here?"

"Well," Jacob tears his eyes away from Renesmee and raises an eyebrow at Charlie. "I could tell you all about it – Billy knows absolutely everything – but it involves a lot of stuff about werewo–"

Screwing his eyes shut, Charlie presses his hands over his ears. "Ungh! Never mind," he mutters.

Jacob beams at him. "Everything's going to be great, Charlie." Tossing the older man a wink, he advises, "Just try to not believe anything you see."

Charlie mumbles something under his breath, almost too low for vampire hearing to catch, but it sounds suspiciously like, "No problem on _that_ end…"

_Cut the poor guy a break, already. _Emmett suddenly lets out a celebratory roar, pointing at the glowing television screen. "Woo!" He claps his large hands twice, the loud noise echoing off the rafters, and shouts, "Go Gators!"

The two wolves and the human jump like startled rabbits – Charlie manages to keep his balance by putting his palm on Bella's knee and she automatically holds her breath – and the vampires turn into frozen marble sculptures, apart from my foolhardy brother of course.

Salvaging some semblance of normalcy, Charlie glances at Emmett over his shoulder and asks, his voice a bit hoarse, "Florida winning?"

"Just scored the first touchdown," Emmett declares with a satisfied smirk. He casts a brief, conspiratorial look at Bella and waggles his eyebrows. "'Bout time somebody scored around here," he insinuates, his ocher eyes twinkling with mischief.

Bella goes rigid against me, and her full lips curl over her teeth in a snarl before she clamps them tightly together, controlling her temper. The slightest vibration of a growl reverberates throughout her slender form, however, and I rub her shoulder gently with my hand while glaring blackly at Emmett.

Fortunately, Charlie seems oblivious to the exchange. He sucks in another long, slow breath, inflating his lungs nearly to their fullest capacity, and staggers upright. Brushing past Jacob, the police chief of Forks trips over to an open chair in front of the TV and virtually collapses into it, sighing. "Well," he remarks, almost wearily, "I guess we should see if they can hold on to the lead."

Emmett snickers quietly and turns up the volume. Carlisle and Esme share a bemused look. Jasper peers across the room at Alice, arching an eyebrow in question, and she shrugs her tiny shoulders. Rosalie saunters over to her husband's chair and settles on the armrest, her fingers playing absently with his hair while she stares unfocused at the game. Renesmee rotates in Bella's lap until she has an uninterrupted view of the entire room, her keen eyes flashing from Charlie, to Jacob, to the others as she twines a section of her mother's brown locks around her fingers.

Bella and I look at each other in unison. The skin around her eyes is tight; she still worries that she will give us away – forget to act human or have a momentary lapse in self-control.

I lift my hand to stroke her cheek with the backs of my fingers. She doubts herself far too much. Newborn vampire or not, Bella would never consciously do anything to hurt Charlie – and I trust her as surely as I trust that the sun will rise tomorrow morning.

She lays her head down on my shoulder, exhaling softly. Resting my chin on the crown of her head, I meet my sister's golden stare and mouth, my lips vibrating with the quick words, "How long will he stay?"

_I don't know yet, _Alice answers mentally, her thoughts uneasy. _It's not decided._

I tilt my head to the side, measuring Charlie's slouched figure with my eyes. His thoughts are muted once again, but I can discern a vague sense of…_relief_…covering his mind. There is also the grit of stubbornness in his emotional state that Jasper interprets as his intent to remain here for as long as possible.

I sigh, a silent puff of air between my lips, and lay my cheek against Bella's silky, floral-scented hair.

It was going to be an interesting day.

------------

**Author's Note:** A big thank you goes out to everyone who diligently reads and reviews my story. I appreciate your feedback more than I could ever express. Thank you.

The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 486-511.

And I just have to say that I saw the movie opening weekend, and thought it was fantastic. I literally watched my personal rendition of Edward come alive onscreen, along with every other beloved character in the series.

I am already speculating on the deleted and extended scenes. For example, I would love to know what they were saying to each other in Bella's bedroom after the kiss – right before she fell asleep.

I'll be quiet now. :) Please review!


	7. My Star

**Chapter Note:** Because I couldn't bear to simply repost a couple of chapters without submitting a new one, I waited until this was finished before updating all at once. I know that probably would have been a big disappointment to all my readers; it would bother me if the position were reversed.

Enjoy!

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I have not had to put up with this level of tedium since before Bella graduated from high school.

All throughout Charlie's extended visit, I waver between the two extremes of acute tension and unadulterated boredom. I try to pay attention to the football game – but the sport holds little interest for me, and Emmett is in rare form today, making pointedly uncouth remarks under the guise of commenting on the game. So I ignore his words and block his thoughts, which are considerably more offensive, and seek out a new distraction.

Naturally, I always gravitate to Bella.

She remains a tightly bound bundle of nervous energy, though outwardly she appears calm and collected. When it begins to rain, her chestnut-veiled eyes watch the rivulets of water create patterns across the glass windows, and I watch her. She is the single most fascinating person I have ever met.  
I entertain myself for an indeterminate amount of time by inhaling her sweet freesia scent, causing my tongue to tingle in remembrance of the taste of her skin – and then I study the hidden thoughts that emerge fleetingly on her heart-shaped face, wondering what motivation is behind each small twist of her lips, every slow blink of her eyes…

Because I am staring so avidly, I notice immediately when the first set of contacts dissolve, exposing the vivid scarlet of Bella's irises.

I nudge her gently with my hip, and she turns to look at me questioningly. In silence, I raise my free hand and brush a fingertip along the petal-soft skin under her eye, arching my eyebrows to convey the meaning behind the gesture.

It only takes her a fraction of a second to catch on, and she claps her hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Swiftly handing Renesmee to me, she leaps to her feet and hurries up the staircase to the bathroom, head down to hide her eyes. But she needn't have bothered; Charlie scarcely looks up when she leaves the room, and I am fairly certain that he is as interested in what is happening on the television screen as I am.

Bella comes back shortly – almost _too_ soon, if one is working with a human timetable – and settles in her seat beside me on the couch, her eyes once again a mediocre shade of brown. On that point, I agree with my sister; the unusually deep chocolate color of Bella's gaze, and now Renesmee's, is far superior to the camouflage provided by the contact lenses.

My arm enfolds her slender shoulders just as Renesmee crawls from my lap and into Bella's waiting arms. The two of them gaze absently out at the rain, and I glance sideways at the tiny figure sitting furthest away from everyone else.

Alice is hunched over slightly, elbows on her knees and her face cradled in her hands, looking unseeingly at the wood grains of the paneled floor. In her mind, blurred images of Charlie, Bella, and our family swirl like drops of paint in a glass of water – vague and ephemeral.

_It'll be okay, _she keeps repeating. _Not too much longer – there is another commitment for Charlie's time…dinner, I think… _The tenor of her inward musing turns surprisingly bitter. _Stupid dogs. If I could just _see_ properly…_

She gets lost in her visions again, and I tune her out, joining my wife and daughter in their observation of the undulating sheets of rain outside.

I expect Bella's father to leave when the game ends, but of course I should have known better than to pin any assumption on Charlie. After minimal coaxing from a gleeful Emmett, Charlie agrees to stick around to watch yet another monotonous sporting event.

As the rain marks time, slowing to a light drizzle while a steady wind carries the water-heavy clouds to the west, the others take to finding ways to amuse themselves. Carlisle strolls over to the bookshelves and retrieves a copy of Thoreau, already reciting a favorite sonnet in his head. Esme glides from the room gracefully shortly after – only to return some minutes later with a pencil and notepad, her contemplations centered on sketching ideas for Renesmee's bedroom at the cottage. From what I can tell, her design will be absolutely perfect.

The second football game ends, followed by the commentary, and Jacob complains to himself, _Man, I'm starved._ Clambering to his feet, he stretches his long arms high above his head and ambles into the kitchen. The muffled noises of him digging through the refrigerator – stocked specifically for the wolves' use and for my father's continued attempts to persuade Renesmee with human food – echo dimly above the voices issuing from the TV.

Bella excuses herself again, anticipating to lose another pair of contacts, and transfers Renesmee – who is becoming quite groggy and disoriented – to me while she heads upstairs.

It is then that I briefly manage to attract Charlie's attention.

Renesmee nuzzles her face into the fabric of my shirt, yawning, and the moment is so reminiscent of the many nights I spent with Bella in her small bed that I act unconsciously. Laying my cheek against her bronze ringlets, I begin to hum the melody that had come to me while we waited for Bella to wake up only days ago. It is simple – the notes flowing as tranquil as a quiet brook through a forest glade – and Renesmee sighs, her thoughts blurring into ambiguous dreams resplendent with color and the faces of those she loves.

I feel his eyes on me as a muted burst of intertwined emotion and memories resonates from his mind.

He seems…_pleased,_ though it hardly makes sense to me. Did he expect me to show little or no affection for my daughter? I have accepted the fact that he may never fully trust me with Bella's heart, though I will spend the remainder of his life trying to convince him otherwise, but does he hold me in such contempt as to think that I would not put forth every effort to be a father to Renesmee? Am I that much of a monster in his eyes?

_Edward. Edward, that's not it at all; stop brooding about something that's not even there, _Jasper broadcasts loudly to me, interrupting my – _brooding_ ­– as he so eloquently labeled it. I look over at him, tangled up inside. He goes on, _Charlie is pleased that you seem to have a better understanding of fatherhood than he did when Bella was born. _Jasper's topaz-colored eyes light up with a rare show of enthusiasm. _Don't you see? He's starting to _accept_ you, Edward. It's going to take some time…but I think that you just might be able to prove to Charlie that you deserve Bella._

I blink at him, startled.

Of course, there is not enough time in all of eternity for me to become worthy of Bella – but if there is the slightest possibility that Charlie will accept me, even _forgive_ me for the damage I so thoughtlessly wrought on his daughter when I left… I know how elated such a gesture would make my Bella.

My gaze flickers to the side, connecting with Charlie's curious eyes for one second before he breaks off, looking back at the television screen. He will not make it easy on me, I know – but now that I have this _hope,_ this knowledge that I can redeem myself in the eyes of at least one person who perceives me as something other than human – perhaps I can one day look at my reflection and see the man that Bella loves and not just the monster.

She nestles into my side, having returned from the bathroom, and reclaims Renesmee. The little girl is fast asleep, tiny puffs of air whistling lightly through her parted lips. Putting my arm around Bella once again, I allow my attention to drift around the room, taking note.

Alice has abandoned her post by the front door after being convinced by her latest vision – Bella bidding farewell to Charlie in the doorway – that all will be well, and is lounging casually on the bottom step of the staircase. Jasper, relieved that the stress has somewhat dissipated from the house, joins his wife on the stairs, his thoughts weary. Alice seems to sense his psychological fatigue and wordlessly encourages him to lay his head on her lap.

Rosalie tugs on Emmett's hand, pulling the remote control from his grasp, and motions with a sultry nod of her head for him to accompany her. His mind instantly fills with images that I cringe away from in disgust, and the two of them make their way to the small alcove under the stairs. Astonishingly, Rosalie's thoughts are, for once, not in line with her husband's. She is formulating a plan to construct a house of cards comprised of exactly fifty decks, which are stacked neatly on the table. I may have to check up on their progress later tonight.

The opening credits for the news filters from the television set, and Seth perks up. He scrambles upright, stretching just like Jacob, and walks over to Charlie's chair. "You gonna stand Billy and my mom up, Charlie?" he asks amiably, ignoring it when Charlie starts in surprise at his voice. "C'mon," he prompts, moving to block Charlie's view of the TV screen. "Bella and Nessie'll be here tomorrow. Let's get some grub, eh?" Seth offers him a bright, cheery grin.

The chief of police responds with a dubious expression, but yields after a moment under the influence of Seth's infectious smile. "All right…" he mutters, bracing his palms on the armrests of his chair. "I'm coming." Charlie pushes himself erect, groaning as the bones in his spinal column realign after being in one position for several hours, and glances almost reluctantly at the three of us sitting on the sofa. "Guess it's time for me to shove off," he remarks in a low voice.

"I'll walk you out," Bella volunteers at once. Keeping Renesmee's limp form cradled in her arms, she rises fluidly and follows Charlie and Seth to the front door.

I stand as well, not wishing to seem impolite by remaining seated, and say as a farewell, "It was good to see you again, Charlie." My words and the tone behind them are sincere, and I hope that he is able to recognize that.

He halts in mid-step, mildly surprised as always by my courteous treatment of him – and quite suddenly I have to mask my own surprise as he meets my eyes without glaring in dislike. He succeeds in astonishing me even more by replying quietly, "You too –" He hesitates for the length of one heartbeat. "– Edward."

Bella's eyes are shining as she watches the exchange, though her face clearly displays her sense of amazement in her father's behavior.

Seth turns around in the doorway and says to Charlie, "I'll meet you back at the house." Then he grins warmly at Bella. "See you tomorrow?" She nods, and Seth measures her with a keen black-brown stare before slowly raising one arm towards her for a hug. Bella does not hesitate to coil her free arm around his waist, and Seth cheers inside his head. After she withdraws, he waves at me. "Later, Edward." He jogs down the front steps and across the lawn, his pace quickening into a run when he hits the tree line, and Charlie rubs the back of his neck, shaking his head.

While he joins Bella by the threshold, I stroll over to my piano. The melody I hummed to Renesmee is still floating around in my mind, and I may have an idea for a new composition – well, not new so much as a rendition of another piece.

Sitting down on the bench, I begin to run my fingers over the keys very softly, my back to Bella and Charlie, and can easily distinguish every word.

Charlie's semi-opaque thoughts radiate profound unwillingness to leave the house, accompanied by his fear that he will never see his daughter again after tonight. Surely Bella can read the uncertainty in his stance as he hovers in the doorway, murmuring to her, "I don't know how much we should tell Renée about this." He stretches again, and his stomach growls loudly. He probably has not eaten since this morning.

I add a harmonizing line to the melody, committing the notes to memory. Bella agrees fervently, "I know. I don't want to freak her out. Better to protect her. This stuff isn't for the fainthearted."

Rueful, he tells her, "I would have tried to protect you, too, if I'd known how."  
I smile secretively to myself. I know from experience just how vexing it can be to protect Bella. As a self-proclaimed 'danger magnet', she has continuously been a target for fate since the day she arrived in Forks.  
I suppose it was inevitable that she be changed into a vampire; it is the only possible means for her to stay safe. Aside from myself, of course.

Charlie coughs out a short laugh. "But I guess you've never fit into the fainthearted category, have you?"

I can picture Bella's bright smile in my mind's eye, and scarcely resist the urge to turn around to see it firsthand. Of their own accord, my hands dance across the piano, and her lullaby floats above the sound of breathing, Charlie's steadily throbbing heartbeat, and Renesmee's delicate, fluttering pulse.

"I'll think of something," Charlie assures Bella. "We've got time to discuss this, right?" he asks, apprehensive.

"Right," she promises with confidence.

While the familiar strains of the lullaby wrap around me, I integrate the new melody as a tinkling descant. Like the song that the antique gold music box that belonged to my mother plays, it is light and airy, and its presence changes the emotional feel of the entire composition.

When I had first crafted the lullaby, it would fill me with an indescribable ache every time the last note shivered perpetually in my ears – for at the time, I was convinced that there was no future for Bella and I. She was human, and deserved to remain so until she left this world…though she would take my cold, dead heart and all meaning from my existence with her.

Yet now, as the music she inspired is interwoven with Renesmee's song, the ache in my chest is replaced by a powerful surge of elation, hope, and love. It is pure joy.

Shifting into an exuberant major key, the chords ring out like church bells as the prominent melody keeps time, steadying the piece, and the descant soars – free and graceful – in a continuous stream of notes.

_So beautiful… _Esme's unspoken praise and soft sigh call me back to reality, and I glance up at her beaming face, returning her wide smile. _This is what I have always wanted for you, Edward, _she sends the deeply affectionate thought to me. _You are happy. And there is no greater joy for a mother than to see all her children experience true happiness._

In contrast with my mother's blissful musings, Charlie then mumbles to Bella, his tone a peculiar mixture of accusation and petulance, "Jake says you guys were going to take off on me."

She immediately offers him a placation. "I didn't want to do that if there was any way at all around it. That's why we're still here."

He shuffles his feet, the rhythm of his heart accelerating a bit, and the tenor of his thoughts becomes hardened with staunch determination. "He said you could stay for a while," Charlie leads off, speaking firmly, "but only if I'm tough enough, and if I can keep my mouth shut."

"Yes…" Bella falters, hesitating over her response. After the barest pause – too short for Charlie to notice her uncertainty – she murmurs, "…but I can't promise that we'll never leave, Dad. It's pretty complicated…" Her tone slips, betraying a hint of sorrow as she speaks of leaving.

Whether Charlie is aware of it or not is unclear, but he inserts a quiet reminder, belying his own innate desire to keep his daughter close to home. "Need to know."

"Right," she agrees, breathing out in relief.

"You'll visit, though," he asks tentatively, shuffling his feet again, "if you have to go?"

She immediately vows in a low, ringing voice, "I promise, Dad. Now that you know _just_ enough, I think this can work." Judging by the bright flickers of hope lightening her words, I can tell that she wants it to work just as much as Charlie – and she adds, feeding that hope, "I'll keep as close as you want."

Indecision and longing war briefly with one another in Charlie's clouded thoughts, and then both emotions vanish beneath a wave of firm resolve as the soft rustle of fabric and a stutter in his pulse filters through the ceaseless music emanating from the instrument under my fingertips.

Picking up a thread of awareness from my sister's mind, I watch through her eyes as Charlie leans toward Bella to embrace her, and she very carefully wraps an arm around his waist, Renesmee's sleeping face pressed into the curve of her shoulder. "Keep close, Bells," her father says quietly. "Real close."

Bella's teeth lock together with a muffled snap – steeling herself for the temptation of his nearness – and she squeezes her eyes shut. "Love you, Dad," she whispers with deep feeling.

The tiny hairs on the back of his neck prickle, either in response to the coolness of her breath or the instinctive fear that close proximity to our kind awakens in humans – Bella herself being the exception to that rule, of course.

He shivers and pulls away while trying to be casual. Bella instantly lowers her arm, rocking back on her heels to provide a little more space between their bodies. Charlie's lips twitch into a hint of a smile. "Love you, too, kid," he tells her sincerely. "Whatever else has changed, that hasn't." His dark eyes flick downward, softening, and he gently touches Renesmee's plump, rose-stained cheek with a fingertip. "She sure looks a lot like you," he comments in a subtle undertone.

Warmth blooms inside my chest. I am glad that both Charlie and I are perceptive enough to discern the obvious similarities Renesmee shares with her mother – and there are quite a few, by my reckoning.

Bella's full lips tremble, her eyes shimmering in the most peculiar way. She controls her expression a half-second later, though she cannot fully disguise the overflow of emotion in the gaze she gives her father, who is still looking fondly at the slumbering baby in her arms.

"More like Edward, I think," she replies, and I feel my mouth twist into a frown. Even as an immortal with superior senses and an enhanced mentality, Bella is still inexplicably unobservant when it comes to her own unique impact on the world and the people around her.

She has always glamorized me – calling me her angel, her eyes full of wonder every time she saw my skin glittering like a prism in the sunlight – when I am the one who is undeservedly blessed by the miracle of her light, her love, in my empty, infinite existence. She is _my_ angel, turning the barren wasteland that had become my world into paradise by bringing the parts of me that I never knew existed to life with her mere presence. But she does not see herself that way.

She thinks that Renesmee inherited her exquisite beauty strictly from her vampire genealogy because she has never understood what I, and the majority of the male population at Forks High School, see when she enters a room. Our daughter may have my bronze hair, but every time I look at her, I see a miniature replica of my Bella's perfect face – complete with blush-tinted cheeks and wide chocolate brown eyes.

Bella interrupts my internal ruminations by mentioning almost shyly to Charlie, "She has your curls."

He jerks back a few inches, startled, and then snorts in disbelief. "Huh. Guess she does." He removes his finger from the little girl's flushed skin and rubs the back of his neck in an automatic, embarrassed gesture. "Huh," he mutters again. "Grandpa." Shaking his head incredulously, he glances up and meets Bella's eyes for a brief moment before Renesmee steals his attention once again. "Do I ever get to hold her?" he asks, though it sounds more like an admonishment.

She blinks once, surprised, and then looks down at our daughter, judging whether or not it would be safe. Apparently she decides in Charlie's favor, for she says softly, "Here," and lifts Renesmee's warm weight away from her shoulder. The little girl sighs in her sleep while Charlie forms a cradle with his arms and Bella carefully places her in his embrace.

When Bella completely withdraws, her father mutters under his breath, "She's…sturdy." He grunts very quietly, shifting his arms minutely. Renesmee remains deeply asleep, her rosebud mouth hanging slightly open as she breathes slow and evenly.

Seeing Bella's frown as he glances up, he swiftly amends, "Sturdy is good." He looks down at his granddaughter, his weathered face creasing into a grimace, and mumbles to himself, "She'll need to be tough, surrounded by all this craziness." His expression softens a moment later, and he begins to sway from side to side, a genuinely affectionate smile tugging on one corner of his mouth. "Prettiest baby I ever saw, including you, kid." He shrugs in vague repentance, peering over at Bella. "Sorry, but it's true."

She agrees – as I knew she would. "I know it is."

Charlie has already returned his attention to Renesmee. "Pretty baby," he croons, his warm breath causing tiny wisps of her bronze hair to tickle her forehead, and she snuggles more willingly into his chest. "Can I come back tomorrow?" he pleads, still rocking in a gentle motion on the balls of his feet.

"Sure, Dad. Of course." Bella smiles as she watches him, and affirms, "We'll be here."

"You'd better be." There is an edge of warning in his voice, but his expression is incredibly tender as he continues to gaze at Renesmee. "See you tomorrow, Nessie," he whispers. My hands pause for a split second from their dance across the piano keys, bracing for the onslaught.

"Not you, too!"

Charlie jerks his head upright, surprised by Bella's sharp, ringing outburst, and takes in her suddenly livid features with bewildered eyes. "Huh?"

Bella struggles visibly to compose herself, her teeth grinding together. Her chest heaves as though she is about to inhale – but seems to think better of it and flexes her small hands into fists behind her back. She speaks slowly, her words clipped but not furious, "Her name is _Renesmee._ Like Renée and Esme, put together. No variations."  
Jasper's head rolls to the side on Alice's knees, tasting Bella's emotions with his talent, but his face is completely free of worry and his thoughts are benign. Alice must have shared with him her vision of Charlie departing from our company unscathed.

"Do you want to hear her middle name?" Bella inquires. The wind chime tone has returned to her voice, the question flowing more naturally from her mouth – though the fire in her level stare lingers, cooled but not yet smothered.

"Sure," Charlie answers. I suspect that the curiosity in his eyes has more to do with his daughter's volatile temper than with his granddaughter's middle name.

The beginning of a grin plays along the corners of Bella's lips. "Carlie," she announces. "With a C." Her hands relax from their tightly clenched position and she folds them in front of her body, interlocking her fingers. The motion strikes me as somewhat bashful, though the reason behind this response eludes me. After I had 'come around', as Bella said, referring to the imminent arrival of our baby, she had expressed her desire to name the child in honor of both our parents. I immediately agreed. Needless to say, Esme was nothing short of ecstatic when she realized that Renesmee had been christened so with her in mind. I did not, however, tell my father that he was to be accredited as well.

Feeling a bit eager, I tune in to Carlisle's mind, momentarily swept up in the tranquil flow of his mental voice as he recites Thoreau – _'__As in the twilight of the dawn, when the first birds awake'_ – as Bella explains softly, "Like Carlisle and Charlie put together."

_Oh! _My father breaks off in the middle of the seventh stanza, his wide gold eyes darting to mine. Smiling crookedly, I nod once and transform Bella's rephrased lullaby into the composition I wrote as a musical illustration of the love that I watched blossom between he and Esme.

Carlisle's face lights up and his thoughts fairly glow with pride, love, and gratitude as Charlie grins at Bella. "Thanks, Bells," he remarks, inordinately pleased.

"Thank _you,_ Dad." Bella speaks earnestly, her gaze intense, "So much has changed so quickly. My head hasn't stopped spinning. If I didn't have you now, I don't know how I'd keep my grip on –" she stops, and swiftly resumes, "– on reality."

An all-too-familiar wave of frustration swells inside me, but I successfully ignore it…to a certain degree. It is blatantly clear to me that Bella had been about to say something else, and changed her mind at the last minute. I wonder if I will ever get to a point in our relationship when her silent thoughts no longer plague me with a curiosity that often burns hotter than my thirst. In all likelihood, that day will never come.

Charlie's stomach growls loudly, protesting the absence of food, and Bella unclasps her hands. "Go eat, Dad. We _will_ be here." It is impossible to doubt her honesty, and Charlie steps closer, assisting as much as he is able as Bella reclaims our daughter.

He takes one backward step, lingering in the doorway, and his eyes flash around the spacious room, inventorying our various activities. His perception must be sharper than the average human's, because he detects the faint change in the atmosphere – the almost imperceptible slip of my family's well-crafted façade – and shivers. He tries to conceal the involuntary reaction by shaking his head and placing a hand on the wood doorframe. "See you tomorrow, Bella." A slight frown darkens his face as he looks her up and down critically. "I mean," he adds, "it's not like you don't look…good." He shrugs, resigned. "I'll get used to it."

"Thanks, Dad."

He nods at her and ducks outside, striding at a slow pace to his cruiser. I watch through the long panel of gleaming windows as his car is swallowed by the dense clusters of emerald leaves, listening to the sound of his tires transition from the muted crunch of earth to the smooth plane of damp pavement, and glance swiftly over my shoulder.

Bella is still standing before the open doorway, a look of profound amazement on her heart-shaped face. Blinking steadily for the first time in several minutes, a barely audible hiss drifts across the room, and the veil of plain, unappealing brown disappears from her widened eyes. As Renesmee nestles into her embrace, she whispers in awe, "Wow."

I spin around on the black polished bench and stand, racing to her side in less than a second. My arms snake around her waist, her back pressing lightly into my chest, and I breathe in deeply. The feel of her body against mine and the pure, distinctive scent of her skin have alleviated some previously unknown ache in the core of my being. Resting my chin on her shoulder, I murmur in genuine pleasure, "You took the word right out of my mouth."

"Edward, I did it!" she exclaims joyfully.

"You did," I tell her, immensely proud, and my arms tighten around her slender frame. "You were unbelievable. All that worrying over being a newborn, and then you skip it altogether." A laugh bubbles out of me, caught up in strands of Bella's dark hair. I want so desperately to touch my lips to the delicate curve of her neck but I refrain. We both nearly lost ourselves in that last kiss, so the rest will have to wait until we are alone – when there will be no interruptions.

Speaking of interruptions, Emmett calls out from under the stairs, "I'm not even sure she's really a vampire, let alone a newborn." He snickers, and adds, "She's too _tame." Seriously, kid_ – he apparently cannot resist including me in his ribbing – _did you two even have any fun last night? Or are you too squeaky clean for that?_

I block him, forcefully pushing his thoughts aside while wishing to do the same with his skull, and suppress the growl starting to build deep inside my chest. Bella, on the other hand, does little to curb her irritation. She stiffens against me, and a snarl rips through her clenched teeth, low-pitched and dangerous.  
It only serves to spur Emmett on. Chuckling, he replies in a mocking tone, "Oooo, scary."

She hisses, the threatening noise rattling in the back of her throat, and Renesmee stirs in her arms. Tiny rosebud mouth stretching wide with a yawn, the little girl blinks her long-lashed eyes and looks around groggily. Her brow puckers in confusion. An image of Charlie materializes in her mind as she sniffs, searching for his scent. She lays a palm on Bella's cheek, showing her the picture, her thoughts questioning.

Bella instinctively moderates her angry features before meeting our daughter's wide brown stare and smiles gently, replying, "Charlie will be back tomorrow."

"Excellent," Emmett says, injecting a fair bit of wicked amusement in his voice, and I can just imagine the lopsided smirk that must be on his face. He cackles with glee, already brainstorming for more suggestive remarks to insert into conversations, and this time Rosalie joins in – she never could resist the opportunity to laugh at another's expense. Especially mine.

An errant notion suddenly rouses in a far corner of my mind. My lips purse as I consider all possible implications if this idea were to proceed, and Renesmee peers around Bella's head to look at me inquisitively while my thoughts swirl inside my skull. I am purposefully keeping my idea from becoming a firm decision; if the immediate future solidifies, then it may ruin my chance to get back at my brother.

As I expected, Alice picks up on my deliberate cluttering of the timeline. _Edward…? Edward, what is it? _she asks, her vision growing shadowy and obscured, and she stares intently at my back from her place on the stairs. _What are you trying to decide?_

Ignoring her questions, I unwind my arms from Bella's waist and circle around to face her, looking over the top of her head towards the little room under the staircase. "Not brilliant, Emmett," I comment scornfully. While his thoughts cloud momentarily with puzzlement, I hold out my hands for Renesmee. She watches me with clear, deep eyes while Bella's eyebrows furrow, hesitating as she measures my expression. Holding her gaze, I allow one lid to drop into a wink, a crooked grin lifting one side of my mouth. Though she continues to frown in confusion, she passes Renesmee to me, and our daughter settles with ease in my arms, resting her little hands on my chest.

"What do you mean?" Emmett finally demands. His voice still rings with mirth, but his mind is abuzz with a vague sense of apprehension. _This is between me and my new little sister, Edward, _he insists. _It's not my fault that you happen to be included in the package._

I narrow my eyes derisively. "It's a little dense, don't you think," I say, arching an eyebrow, "to antagonize the strongest vampire in the house?"

His response is a loud, mocking snort. _"Please!"_ he shouts in sarcastic disbelief, throwing his head backward to crow with laughter at the ceiling.

"Bella," I turn my gaze on her, the disdain on my face melting into affection and a hint of mischief – and Emmett instantly silences, listening attentively, "do you remember a few months ago, I asked you to do me a favor once you were immortal?"

Her expression scrunches up into a thoughtful frown as she sifts through her dim human memories while my mind recalls every detail with crystalline accuracy.

_Bella sat on the kitchen counter, swinging her legs lightly like a child as she leaned against my hard shoulder. Her beautiful face was still painted with a rosy flush from our kiss, and her warmth penetrated through both our clothing to flood my body with exquisite heat._

_I was quietly explaining why newborns have unusual strength in their first year as a vampire – the human blood lingering in their systems fueled the sheer power in their transformed bodies._

_She asked with the ever-present curiosity, "How strong will _I_ be?"_

_I glanced sideways at her, grinning, though the steadily weakening part of my conscience lamented the impending loss of her humanity. "Stronger than I am," I told her truthfully._

_Her chocolate brown eyes lit up. "Stronger than Emmett?"_

_My grin widened. Alice had received a flash recently of a sulking Emmett and a gloating Bella, her vivid scarlet irises glowing with triumph. I was incredibly interested in seeing that particular vision come to fruition. "Yes. Do me a favor and challenge him to an arm-wrestling match. It would be a good experience for him."_

_She laughed, the sound sparkling in the air like precious gems, and laid her head for the briefest moment on my shoulder. I never wanted to move from that spot for the rest of the evening._

"Oh!" Bella gasps out, the same brilliant light from the memory in her eyes, and I work hard to keep my expression neutral under my brother's keen stare.

The blurred vision in Alice's mind immediately clears, and she lets out a shrill, tinkling laugh. _This'll be fun!_ she exclaims mentally, bouncing a little in her seat with excitement.

_What's up?_ Jacob leans around the kitchen doorframe, his cheeks bulging with half-eaten food, a handful of some foul-smelling substance in his large hand.

Glaring in equal turns at Alice's jubilant smile and the smug look on my face that I cannot quite conceal, Emmett growls, "What?"

Bella's shining eyes focus on me, her lips parting slightly in wonder. "Really?" The question is delivered in a tone that conveys an odd mixture of incredulity and anticipation.

"Trust me." I curve my mouth into her favorite crooked smile. The outcome Alice and I had seen through her gift is rock solid – all Bella has to do is believe in herself.

I watch her fondly as she takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders, her chin rising into the air fractionally. Then she pivots fluidly in a half circle to face the staircase, her gaze hardening with determination. "Emmett," she calls out, "how do you feel about a little bet?"

His entire countenance ignites with a wild, exuberant glow and he leaps to his feet. "Awesome." _Now we're gettin' somewhere! _"Bring it."

Alice inwardly shouts words of encouragement as Bella tucks her lower lip between her teeth for a second, uncertainty marring her confident features. Emmett instantly notices her hesitation and arches his eyebrows, insinuating, "Unless you're too afraid…?" He trails off, crossing his huge arms over his chest while he stares down at her with humor-filled topaz eyes.

Bella jerks her chin higher and straightens her spine, trying to appear tough within the shadow of my enormous brother. "You. Me. Arm-wrestling. Dining room table." Her vibrant red eyes widen a little. "Now."

A broad grin decorates Emmett's face, nearly splitting his cheeks, and Esme stifles a frightened gasp, her thoughts filling with worry. _Oh no… Edward! Edward, it will be destroyed!_

Flickering images of mahogany splinters and my mother's horrified expression burst across my mind's eye and Alice interjects swiftly, beating me to the punch, "Er, Bella, I think Esme is fairly fond of that table. It's an antique."

Esme relaxes, stilling her hands from their nervous wringing, and mouths gratefully, "Thanks."

None of this is able to dampen Emmett's buoyant mood – or his absurdly wide smile. "No problem." Unfolding his arms, he begins to stride towards the back door, motioning for us to follow with his hand. "Right this way, Bella."

He leads the way to a cluster of weathered granite rocks near the riverbed. The rest of our family follows behind as we head towards the steady rush of the river, their combined thoughts a cacophony of glee, curiosity, and amusement. I cast a quick glance sideways at Bella; she is staring resolutely forward, though faint lines wrinkle her smooth forehead like she is fighting some internal battle inside her mind.  
I open my mouth to offer a vote of confidence – when the sound of my name being called causes me to pause in mid-step for a fraction of a second. Bella marches on without looking back while Jacob trots barefooted to my side.

_Bella's gonna arm-wrestle? This I gotta see. _I resume walking; he falls easily in step with me, and Renesmee gives him a vibrant smile. Jacob studies both Bella and Emmett as they continue on ahead of us, his mind contemplating the approaching contest, and then he shoots me a furtive glance. _Can she win? _he asks in a subdued tone.

I simply roll my eyes and incline my head a few millimeters. The grin that parts Jacob's lips could rival Emmett's smile. He chuckles almost silently under his breath, commenting mentally, _Cool._

Supremely arrogant in regard to his physical strength, Emmett is completely at ease as he sets his elbow on top of the flattest stone and waves at Bella, still grinning in obvious enjoyment. She maintains a composed demeanor, though her gaze darts to the thick bands of muscle on his bent arm.

I come to a stop several feet away, and the others form a loose semi-circle in the center of the area, their keen eyes locked on the two contenders. Circling around to the opposite side of the makeshift table, Bella copies my brother's position and declares in a crisp, business-like voice, "Okay, Emmett. I win, and you cannot say one word about my sex life to anyone, not even Rose. No allusions, no innuendos – no nothing."

His eyes narrow dangerously. "Deal." Then he adds his own terms. "I win, and it's going to get a _lot _worse." A truly fiendish leer twists his features when Bella holds her breath in shock. _You know that I don't bluff, brother, _he says to me. _Are you sure you want her to go through with this?_

_C'mon, Bella…don't let him get to you! You can do it! _Alice cheers inside her head, and Jasper places his palm on the back of her neck to calm her overexcited nerves. She throws him an annoyed glare; his hand slips from her neck to the small of her back – just to touch her and not regulate her emotions.

Bella looks at Emmett with wide eyes, a twinge of apprehension crossing her expression, and he seizes the opportunity to taunt her. "You gonna back down so easy, little sister?" He shakes his head in mock-disappointment. "Not much wild about _you,_ is there? I bet that cottage doesn't have a scratch." Laughing raucously, the noise bouncing off the gray-brown rocks, he says between chuckles, "Did Edward tell you how many houses Rose and I smashed?"

Red fire flares in her bright eyes, and her jaw locks with an audible snap. Glowering menacingly, she grabs Emmett's big hand, her slim fingers curling less than halfway around his palm, and mutters through her teeth, "One, two –"

"Three." With a grunt, Emmett shoves against her hand, his bicep rippling in exertion. Bella is unmoved; the threatening look on her heart-shaped face cracks a little with surprise, and she stares at her own hand in wonder, a faint smile tugging on her lips.

Emmett growls, a deep bass rumble coming from inside his chest, and his thick eyebrows lower fiercely in concentration. A string of profanities ricochets within his skull when Bella does not lose so much as a millimeter. He throws his whole body into the force behind his grasp, the seconds ticking by, and Bella's smile becomes more prominent.

Abruptly, she bends her deceptively fragile-looking arm infinitesimally and Emmett nearly loses his grip in shock as she propels his hand back an inch. Enchantingly lovely giggles erupt from her mouth, and the sound is so delicious that I cannot help but to laugh with her. Beside me, Jacob lets out a muffled guffaw, his dark eyes twinkling with merriment.  
An incensed snarl rips through the bright peals of laughter; Emmett bares his vivid white teeth at Bella – but she only smiles sweetly, reminding him in a serene voice, "Just keep your mouth shut."

With a casual flick of her wrist, she smashes his hand into the boulder.

A noise like the clap of thunder reverberates off the rocks and the surrounding forest, startling a jay from his perch on a pine bough, and Renesmee jumps in my arms. I tighten my hold around her, all of us looking on as the slab of granite quivers and a jagged piece disconnects from the whole and topples to the ground. It lands squarely on Emmett's foot – cracking in two in the process – and Bella snickers, pulling her hand away with a triumphant grin. I laugh quietly at her amusement and my brother's outraged and disheartened scowl while Jacob cups a hand over his mouth, resisting the urge to double over in hysterics.

Curling his lips over his teeth, Emmett kicks a fragment of the broken rock across the river. It spins through the air like a propeller, slicing a maple tree in half, and then slams into the thick trunk of an ancient fir. A flock of birds take flight from its branches, squawking to one another in dismay. The tree sways perilously – and falls with a groan until it is propped upright at an odd angle by a neighboring silver pine.

Once the clamor dies, Emmett fixes my wife with a blazing ocher glare. "Rematch," he snaps. "Tomorrow."

Bella's slight smile is patronizing, her ruby-colored eyes glittering with the joy of victory. "It's not going to wear off that fast," she informs him, shaking her head. Then she suggests teasingly, "Maybe you ought to give it a month." Her smile tilts to one side, becoming more of a smirk, and a dimple appears in the center of her small chin.

Emmett growls, sounding exactly like the irritable grizzlies that he enjoys to hunt, and shows his teeth once again. "Tomorrow," he snarls at her.

Her expression switches from mischievously amused to positively angelic in the blink of an eye. "Hey," she says in a pleasant, lighthearted voice, shrugging her tiny shoulders, "whatever makes you happy, big brother."

While an impressive collection of obscenities permeates his thoughts, Emmett pummels the slab of granite with his fist like a toddler having a tantrum. The rock shatters under the force of his blow, sending a puff of dust into the air and a shower of gray splinters onto the grass. He spins on heel and storms off toward the tree line – no doubt to nurse his wounded ego for the remainder of the evening. Rosalie wonders if she should follow…but decides against it for the time being. Emmett's temper shows itself rarely, but when it does, the only logical advice for the rest of us to heed is 'look out'.

My brother's departure only captures my attention for a handful of seconds before I find my gaze drawn back to Bella. Open fascination brightens her soft, pale face as she looks down at the boulder in front of her, splaying her fingers wide on its gritty surface, and after a moment's hesitation she slowly digs her hand into the stone. Her crimson eyes light up even more, and she raises a handful of crushed rock to her face, inspecting it with a small grin. "Cool," she mumbles to herself.

Her full lips stretch over her teeth in a huge smile. I unconsciously mimic the expression, watching avidly as she twirls in a swift circle and chops the rock with the side of her hand in a surprisingly believable representation of a karate move. With a low-pitched shriek, the stone shivers, an explosion of dust erupting from a fissure opening down the middle of the slab, and splits in two.

Peals of delighted laughter dance on the light breeze that stirs Bella's dark hair as she makes a game of demolishing the rest of the stone, using her hands and feet to break up the granite into tiny shards. After each strike, a quiet snicker – like the laugh of a naughty child – bursts out of her mouth.

I share in her mirth, chuckling in genuine amusement while she enjoys her newfound strength, and once I start Jacob joins in, his russet-skinned face turning redder as he cackles at his best friend's antics. Carlisle's shoulders shake with a quiet laugh, the tone of his thoughts echoing his profound happiness that I now have a beloved mate to cherish for eternity, and Esme covers her mouth with a hand to stifle her own soft giggles.

Rosalie lets out a puff of air, a reluctant smile curving her lips, and shakes her head. Tossing her golden locks, she silently slips away into the forest, intent on locating her missing husband. As plans start to materialize in her mind to make Emmett forget about his defeat, I hastily block Rose's thoughts before the mental pictures become too well defined.

Jasper absorbs our combined good humor like a sponge, grinning broadly the whole time, and Alice is, well, Alice. She trills merrily, her high-pitched laughter ringing throughout the small clearing.

Suddenly, a new sound floats above the amused chorus. Shrill, effervescent giggles like the ringing of silver bells on a crisp winter's morning emerge from Renesmee's tiny mouth, her cheeks bright pink as she watches her mother's playful behavior with sparkling brown eyes.

Everyone falls silent; six pairs of dumbstruck eyes turn towards the baby in my arms, and Bella pauses in mid-punch, looking at our daughter in astonishment. Straightening, she brushes the dust from her hands and glances up at me, her ruby-colored eyes wide in surprise. "Did she just laugh?"

"Yes," I tell her, smiling crookedly. Renesmee beams in response, her gaze flitting from one parent to the other as she remembers Bella destroying the rock and the happiness it seemed to awaken in her.

Jacob snorts under his breath. "Who _wasn't_ laughing?" he mutters, rolling his eyes. _Bella was acting like a complete goofball_, he adds mentally.

I glance sideways at him, a smirk playing along the edges of my mouth. Though the circumstances of Jacob's inclusion to our family are not of my choosing, I meant it when I told him a few days ago that I think of him as a brother, a comrade-in-arms. And despite our…disagreement with the Charlie situation, it cannot change the fact that he has become more or less a permanent fixture in our lives – and I still owe him for the constant protection he afforded my Bella during those agonizing months we were apart.

My smirk becomes more prominent, and I nudge him carefully in the ribs with my elbow, teasing good-naturedly, "Tell me you didn't let go a bit on your first run, dog."

Surprise quickly gives way to joy on his face as he realizes that I am bantering with him just as I would with either of my brothers, and he raises his eyebrows, grinning broadly. "That's different," he justifies, lightly punching my shoulder with his fist. From the corner of my eye, I see Bella's lips part in disbelief while she takes in the easy camaraderie developing between Jacob and I. I wish that I could see her eyes – they are my only windows to her hidden thoughts – but Jacob is still speaking. He explains mock-seriously, dark eyes glittering with humor, "Bella's supposed to be a grown-up. Married and a mom and all that. Shouldn't there be more dignity?"

I gaze in silence at him, dubious, while Renesmee frowns deeply, a little crease appearing in the middle of her tiny brow. Her scorching palm touches my cheek, and she shows me her memory of Bella's little game, focusing on the unbridled elation on her mother's face. She colors the image with a strong sense of enjoyment – and then the vision shifts abruptly, like the turning of a page in a book. Renesmee repeats Jacob's words and broadcasts her annoyance with his suggestion that Bella stop having fun. She likes to see her mother smile and laugh. It makes her happy. We share a common bond in that respect, it seems.

"What does she want?" Bella eyes the two of us curiously as she picks up a fragment of gray-brown stone from the ground and twirls it between her fingers.

Grinning, I tell her, "Less dignity." Her scarlet eyes are still dancing with pleasure, her long brown locks swaying gently around her neck and shoulders in the breeze. She holds me captive without putting forth any conscious effort. I would be perfectly content to watch her destroy an entire mountain if it made her giggle like that. "She was having almost as much fun watching you enjoy yourself as I was," I say, the center of my chest warming with adoration.

Bella smiles, her expression full of mischief and affection, and her eyes flit from mine to Renesmee. "Am I funny?" Not expecting an answer, she darts forward. Mother and daughter reach for one another simultaneously, and I release my hold on Renesmee while Bella's arms wind around her small body expertly. Once the little girl is settled, Bella offers her the rock in her hand, balancing it in the center of her palm. "You want to try?"

Renesmee beams eagerly, snatching the rock with both hands. The piece of granite fits easily between her tiny fingers and she squeezes, her auburn-colored eyebrows knitting together as she concentrates, using all of her considerable strength – given her age and size – to pulverize the stone as she had seen her mother do.

A slight noise, like the scraping of rock against rock, emanates from the shard in her hands. The smallest trace of dust trickles down to be caught up by the wind and blown away, but the stone remains intact.  
Renesmee grimaces in disappointment and holds up the shard to Bella. She takes it at once, assuring our daughter with a smile, "I'll get it." Her fingers contract just noticeably, and the stone disintegrates into a handful of pale gray sand. Renesmee claps gleefully, laughing, and the sound is so sweetly infectious that we all join in – a chorus of bells resonating across the babbling river.

Another breeze rustles the canopy of leaves covering the forest, and the clouds blanketing the sky suddenly part. Thick beams of sunlight, tinged ruby and gold, burst from the burning orb of the setting sun and illuminate the clearing. Rainbow flecks of light glitter on the exposed flesh of every vampire present, dappling the deep jade grass and the rough bark of the surrounding tree trunks, and fiery sparkles burst upon the ripples of the water…but all of this is incapable of rivaling the jewel-like brilliance of Bella's skin.

From the first moment that I had seen my flesh glisten in the light of day, I had been repulsed.  
The words that reverberated in my head each time I looked at myself in the mirror or through the minds of my family were harsh, cutting, and undeniably true: _unnatural, alien, frightening…_the skin of a killer.

When I took Bella to the meadow on that fateful day, I had felt the cold tingles of fear skitter down my spine, the dread clawing at my insides, as she waited for me to step into the sunlight, a halo of gold shimmering on her chestnut hair.

But she was not repulsed, or afraid. She was enthralled.

It was at that precise second while her heartbeat drummed steadily in my ears that I felt absolute acceptance. I had shown Bella everything that I was, all that I could do – and still she stayed with me. She had even called me _beautiful_ as she dreamt that night in my arms.

Looking at her now, I am struck by the notion that 'beautiful' is an absurdly inadequate description for a being as glorious as the one standing beside me.

Every glittering facet on the apples of her cheeks flashes with perfect clarity in my eyes, and the slender column of her throat twinkles more brilliantly than the most costly diamond necklace. Her pale lavender eyelids shimmer like amethysts as they flutter; she holds her hand up before her face, her expression full of wonder as she slowly turns her palm over, mesmerized by her new skin.

A set of tiny, dimpled fingers touch Bella's cheek, stroking along the edge of her jaw. Renesmee's dark eyes are round with awe as she stares raptly at her mother. She reaches for one of the slim arms supporting her feather-light weight and pushes up the white fabric covering Bella's forearm. The exposed skin sparkles instantly beneath the sun's rays, and Renesmee puts her small arm next to her mother's, comparing their appearances.

Our little girl's flawless ivory skin is softly luminous – not startling like a vampire's, but not the flat tone of an average human. It certainly would not keep her from going out in public on a sunny day. Renesmee, however, is far from satisfied with this knowledge. Her thoughts are intensely displeased; she wants to sparkle like her parents, because we look so pretty in the ruby-and-gold light.

She raises her palm and touches Bella's face again, showing her an image of their arms side by side and flavoring it with her childlike malcontent.

Bella shakes her head in denial, smoothing Renesmee's curls – gleaming vividly like an open flame in the sunlight – away from her soft cheek, and smiles gently. "You're the prettiest," she murmurs, reassuring our daughter.

That does not sit well with me. Without a doubt, Renesmee is the loveliest child to ever exist on this earth – but as enchanting as she is, it is like comparing the pure, distant light of a flickering star to the dazzling radiance of the sun. I cannot tear my gaze from the dark-haired angel holding a cherub in her embrace at my side, and the words slip out from my mouth of their own accord – low and ardent. "I'm not sure I can agree to that."

Bella turns sideways, lips parting to form a reply – when she abruptly halts, her eyes widening as she stares at my face. I have seen this particular expression on her face countless times, because I am the only one who can affect her thought processes with just a glance.

I hold her eyes, unblinking, the light creating tiny multicolored sparks across her full lips, the tip of her nose, and the curve of her throat, until the fabric of her shirt hides the rest of her flesh from view. I have the sudden, wild urge to pull away that annoying material from her body. It conceals a true masterpiece from my vision, and I want to see her, to have such a profound memory seared eternally into my brain…

_Ugh. Could you stop making googly-eyes at each other? I'm getting a stomachache. _Jacob quickly strides forward, filling the space on Bella's other side, and avoids my glare as she catches his movement in her peripheral vision and turns to look at him. He lifts his hand in front of his face, mockingly shielding his eyes from her glittering skin, and jokes, "Freaky Bella."

I treat his statement like a compliment and express honestly, "What an amazing creature she is." Unconsciously, I take a step closer to Bella, her scent overwhelming even Renesmee's unique aroma, and wrap an arm around her waist. She immediately moves into my hold, fitting herself at my side as though she was made to stand there.

After a minute or so of comfortable silence, the others' thoughts humming dully in the background of my mind, she smiles to herself, and the curiosity reawakens with fresh vigor. I lean over to press a kiss on her cheek, and then murmur quietly in her ear, "What are you thinking?"

She angles her head to meet my eyes, and I am momentarily rendered speechless by the sheer joy blazing inside her crimson irises, lighting up her entire countenance with an inner fire. She is utterly dazzling. "That I've found the place where I belong," she replies simply.

I cannot help myself. My free hand comes up to frame the side of her face and I cover her mouth with mine. The emotions coursing, uncontrolled and explosive, throughout my body are reminiscent of what I experienced the first night I entered Bella's bedroom and heard her say my name as she slept.

Jasper groans internally as he struggles to dampen my emotional storm – with minimal success – and Carlisle tactfully clears his throat, hoping to interrupt us by embarrassing Bella.

She breaks away at once, inhaling a sharp breath, but I refuse to drop my hand from her cheek. I run the pad of my thumb over her bottom lip and her shaky exhale wafts across my face, filling my head with an extremely heightened awareness of her and only her.

Alice giggles, the sound muffled by the hand covering her grinning mouth. _Oh, go on – _she encourages with her thoughts – _get out of here already. I'll look after the baby until Em and Rose get back, and Esme can get a head start on her plans for Nessie's room. _A vision swirls inside her mind, disrupting her line of thought, and I only catch a brief glimpse of a circular forest glade that strikes a familiar chord before she blocks me by translating "The Jabberwocky" into Thai.

I sigh and shift my eyes from Bella just enough to see my petite sister standing a few feet to the left. She winks, then motions with her small hands for me to take my wife elsewhere. "Scoot." Her lips move soundlessly to form the friendly order, and she skips forward with her arms held open, waiting to receive my daughter.

Turning my gaze back to Bella, my thumb continues to trace the shape of her mouth while I murmur in a low, smoldering voice, "Come with me."

She nods helplessly, making a noise in the back of her throat that is half-assent, half-moan, and electricity begins to sizzle through my veins once again.

As I lose myself in the fiery depths of her brilliant red eyes, I use my free arm to remove Renesmee from Bella's hold and pass the little girl to Alice. My sister claims Renesmee easily, an impish grin on her elfin face, and swiftly returns to Jasper's side. _See you in the morning, _she thinks playfully.

Without sparing the others even a farewell glance, I pull Bella onto my back in a movement that is strictly reflexive and sprint to the northwest, leaping across the river, and am soon enveloped by the comfortably well-known emerald cocoon of the forest.

Bella's lips are suddenly at my ear. "I can keep up with you now, you know," she breathes, and I have to reinforce my concentration as she lays a feathery kiss on my neck.

"Oh, I know." I glance at her fleetingly over my shoulder, smiling. "But time is running short, and I believe that I proved just this morning that – of the two of us – I am the fastest."

"For now," she mutters sourly, adjusting her grip around my shoulders and crossing her ankles in front of my waist, and my smile widens at the hint of warning in her voice.

My eyes flick upwards as we pass beneath a gap in the leafy canopy, the light creating red-gold sparkles on our skin, and I increase my pace, tracking the glowing orb of the sun hanging low in the sky.

Less than five minutes later, I break through a ring of lush ferns and skid to a halt directly in the center of a small meadow – _our_ meadow. Late summer daisies dot the swaying grass, tinged a burnished gold by the setting sun, and stalks of purple foxglove decorate the outer boundary of the meadow, just touching the low-hanging branches of the fir trees.

Bella lithely springs from my back and wanders slowly through the soft grass. The expression on her face is exactly the same as when she and I came here the first time – full of wonder and appreciation of the wild, untainted beauty surrounding us. A light breeze gently tosses her dark hair, sending an intoxicating cloud of her scent towards me, and I force myself to approach at a slow walk, allowing her to have a moment to absorb this special place with her newly enhanced senses.

She spins to look at me, a faint smile curving her lips, and the sunlight illuminates her entire face. My breath leaves my lungs in a rush, staggered by the absolute magnificence of the woman standing before me.

Seeming not to notice my inability to construct a coherent thought because of her inadvertent 'dazzling', Bella remarks quietly, "We haven't been here since…" She trails off, her gaze suddenly distant – no doubt remembering our last trip to the meadow. It is quite vivid in my mind, as well…and as the memory pervades my thoughts, my earlier desire to see Bella's bare skin in the sunlight swiftly overrides my fading willpower.

I leap forward just as she unexpectedly pounces, the brilliant scarlet of her eyes ablaze with lust, and we crash into one another, the noise echoing like distant thunder across the treetops. Together, our hands make short work of the clothing separating our bodies, and as Bella's fingers tangle themselves into my hair, pulling my face towards hers, I suppress the hunger long enough to pull away. I want that vision of her perfect figure shimmering like a flawless diamond more than I can ever hope to explain.

"Edward?" Her grasp loosens and she frowns in confusion, staring up at me while I move further away, angling my body to the side so that my shadow does not hinder the long fingers of light piercing the dusky blue sky.

And then…there are no words to describe the image that becomes permanently embedded in my brain.

A few seconds go by. I am unable to move, to blink, half-afraid that this celestial creature will vanish – return to the heavens from whence she came. Bella's eyebrows come together, a little crease appearing in the center of her forehead, and she starts to push herself up on her elbows. "What –?"

"Stay still," I beg in a hoarse whisper. The puzzled frown remains on her face, but she heeds my request and lays back on the flower-strewn grass, her chestnut locks spread out around her like a fan.

My avid gaze roams over every curve, each elegantly shaped contour of her divine shape, and I feel my clenched muscles start to tremble from the exertion of containing my need.

For the span of one whole minute, I indulge my bizarre whim, letting my eager eyes take in their fill. Impatient and bemused, Bella finally reaches for me…and I cannot fight against such a compelling temptation anymore. Melting into her embrace, I brush my lips along the edge of her jaw, down her neck, and pause at the hollow at the base of her throat to murmur into her fragrant skin, "You are so beautiful."

In a sudden burst of inspiration, I let the tip of nose glide upward, following an invisible line to her mouth. With our lips barely touching, tiny wisps of her breath leave a sweet taste on my tongue as she exhales heavily, entwining her slender arms around my neck. Repeating the same words from before, when I had tried to persuade her – and my unflappable morality – to give ourselves to one another before the wedding, I whisper, "I love you." I kiss the corner of her mouth. "I want you." When I kiss the outer curve of her lower lip, she whimpers ever so quietly, and my arms instinctively tighten around her waist. "Right now," I manage to finish, the air entering and leaving my open mouth in shallow gasps.

"Yes…" She sighs, and captures me with her whole body, holding me to her with steely arms and legs while fiercely pressing her lips to mine.

The feathery meadow grass is as comfortable as our bed at the cottage. Broken blades get caught in my hair, and Bella's, but neither of us are of a mind to care. We remain as closely fused as two separate beings can possibly be until the endless expanse of sky above us has long since darkened to blue-black, sprinkled with millions of pristine white stars.

"Look, love." I do not raise my voice above a whisper; somehow, I feel as though speaking any louder will disturb the tranquil perfection of this moment, like waking from a dream that could easily go on forever. Deftly, I rearrange our bodies so that she is lying across my chest, her head pillowed on my shoulder, and I thread my fingers through her hair. Angling my chin downward, I look on with a smile as her eyes grow wide and a low gasp escapes from her parted lips.

"There's so _many,"_ she comments in awe, turning her head in every direction. The faint glow of starlight casts a silvery sheen on our bare limbs. There is no moon tonight, but I can make out even the smallest details in the texture of her full lips as I watch her stare up at the night sky. "It's like…" She struggles to organize her thoughts, and I stifle the ever-present frustration caused by her editing. "Like it just…goes on forever. Only I couldn't see it before."

"Neither could I." Irresistibly drawn, my fingertips caress her cheek, and she nestles deeper into my embrace with a contented sigh.

I was not referring to the eternal scope of the universe, but of my life with Bella. She is the sole reason that I can now call this unending existence that I never chose a _life._ Because of her, I can see the sunrise and think of it as a new day and not merely another drop in the monotonous ocean of time.

And we will have this life together – forever.

That realization fills me with such hope and encompassing joy that I swear I can actually feel my soul flutter within my hollow chest and pulse like a heartbeat.

The worry and uncertainty of Renesmee's lifespan and her connection to Jacob still stain the fringes of my mind, and undoubtedly Bella's as well, but those emotions hold no power over us tonight.

Glancing briefly at the stars, I recall from an old manuscript on sailing that a ship's captain would navigate his vessel by observing the stars, using their fixed course in the sky to steer his ship back to port. When the storms came, threatening to sink the craft in the seemingly limitless waters, the captain would need only remember the position of his guiding star to find his way through the turmoil.

Bella is my star. The only star I will ever need.

As long as I have her light to shine on my life, I will always be home.

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**Author's Note:** Thank you again to all the reviewers – you're all awesome!

The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 512-524.

I will try to have another chapter ready in a few weeks. We are fast approaching the suspenseful, action-oriented parts of the story, and I am looking forward to interpreting those moments through Edward's very perceptive thoughts and feelings.

Don't forget to review, please!


	8. Travel Plans

**Updated 4.23.09: **As has been pointed out by some very observant reviewers (and I thank you all, by the way), there is a confusing little inconsistency in this chapter. I finally found the time to fix it – and I got to add in another fun scene, as well.

**Chapter Notes:** I had a_ lot_ of fun with this chapter. There is only a little bit of dialogue in the novel, as it is more of a summary of three months. Which, in turn, allowed me to play around with the characters and add a few moments that I think could have easily happened in the actual story.

I'm anxious to see what everyone thinks about my favorite scene that I included. What might that be, you ask? You'll have to wait and see!

Get reading, and enjoy!

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The first week of Bella's introduction to the world of immortals could easily rival our honeymoon in its varying degrees of heightened emotions. Change is a near-constant companion – and not all of it stems from Renesmee, though she certainly contributes to the anxiety that hovers amidst our family like a persistent fog as her growth physically and mentally continues at an accelerated pace.

When Bella and I return from our meadow to the cottage as the last stars begin to fade into a brightening lilac-colored sky, we find a driftwood fire crackling merrily in the hearth and a note sitting atop the mantle, written in my mother's thin, flowing script. She had finished Renesmee's room and wanted to know what we thought.

Bella practically disappears from my side. Her amazed gasp, echoing down the narrow hallway a fraction of a second later, propels me to follow. Together, we stare across the threshold of what was only yesterday an empty room…and has since been transformed into a picture-perfect haven for our daughter.

She is in such a celebratory mood that I have no desire to protest as she locks her arms around my neck, her kisses exuberant, and tows me into our bedroom.

Apparently, Alice's vision of us returning to the house in the morning did not specify _which_ morning.

But we cannot stay away from Renesmee for long. When the lark, still nesting among the roses, trills the first note of her song to welcome yet another dawn, Bella springs from my arms and races into the closet to get dressed. She seems to be working very hard to avoid eye contact with me as I don my own clothing, and I stifle an amused chuckle. She must be trying to prevent any further distractions.

As we near the house, Alice sends me a mental greeting – and also informs me of Charlie's visit. He had come back in the late morning, slightly discouraged that Bella was not present, but placated by Renesmee's company for most of the day. She then says that he will be here in less than an hour and will be bringing Sue Clearwater with him.

Surprising…but not exactly a revelation. Sue had lost her husband, and her children were more often than not wrapped up in their duties to their pack; she probably needed interaction with other adults – adults who share her connection with a world outside of reality. And it is obvious that Charlie is lonely with Bella no longer living in his house…

The events of the day have the feel of a routine in the making. Charlie and Sue stay for a few hours – Seth and Jacob mill about as well, infinitely more at ease, and even Leah stops in briefly – until Sue insists that it is time for a decent meal. The police chief and the Quileute mother depart under the promise of another visit tomorrow, and Bella watches curiously as Leah speaks to Jacob in a low voice while also shooting irritated glares at Jasper, who has not allowed himself to be less than arm's length from Bella since the moment she and I entered the house.

Leah stalks out the back door a minute later. Jacob finds a spot next to Bella on the sofa, given that she has Renesmee on her lap, and looks over expectantly when she calls his name. "There's something…different between you and Leah," Bella says hesitantly, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth. "You seem to – get along with her now. Why?" She instantly backpedals when Jacob turns in his seat to face her. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to – I was only wondering…"

His expression is open, hoping to reassure her, and then he shrugs. "It's a pack thing. I suppose it's because I made her my second-in-command. My 'beta'." He flashes her a lopsided grin. "I figured as long as I was going to do this Alpha thing for real, I'd better nail down the formalities." Then his grin widens at Bella's open mouth, her eyes rounded with surprise, and shrugs again, commenting to himself that Leah was the best choice despite her intense aversion to vampires.

I have seen his reasoning in his thoughts, and I agree. Though Leah Clearwater is a bitter, vindictive and resentful she-wolf, she has endured hardships that most people cannot even begin to imagine. Thinking of her reminds me of the time that Bella expressed pity for Leah. Perhaps I, too, have come to sympathize with her plight: this female shape-shifter who is the only one of her kind to exist and will never be able to carry on her legacy through an offspring.

The sun shines brilliantly in the sapphire blue sky for most of the day – a rarity, to be sure – so after Renesmee's second feeding Bella and I decide to take her outside.

I feel so utterly blissful with Bella twined in my arms, leaning against my chest as we lounge on the yellow grass covering a small hillock near the river. Renesmee is sitting in front of her mother, playing with a dozen or so blooms of wildflowers that she and Bella had gathered as we walked to this spot, content to travel at a slower pace to lengthen this perfect moment. She scatters the small pink petals of one flower across my outstretched leg, and then repeats the gesture with Bella's, smiling to herself.

A little while later, Bella rotates in my embrace and pushes gently on my shoulders. Smiling, I realize what she wants and lie back on the ground. Renesmee giggles as Bella arranges herself beside me, one whole side of her body pressed against mine, and she reaches for my hand, interlocking our fingers.

A cherubic face framed by a riot of bronze curls hovers above us, rainbow sparkles from our exposed skin decorating her flushed cheeks and glittering in her dark eyes. Renesmee picks up a bright yellow daisy and tucks it into Bella's hair, clapping her tiny hands in pleasure when she is finished. The little girl then makes a game of slipping any sort of blossom she can find into her mother's long brown tresses – and mine, as well.

Soon, she wriggles between us and places one warm palm on each of our faces to show us her handiwork. Two glistening statues lie motionless, hand-in-hand, on the vibrant grass, surrounded by over a hundred multicolored blooms. Their eyes are closed, and both wear identical, soft-lipped smiles that radiate sheer happiness.

We remain there until Renesmee falls asleep shortly after watching a spectacular sunset, nestled into the crook of Bella's arm. Then we make our way back to the cottage and put her to bed in her new room. Esme had selected a beautifully ornate wrought-iron crib – vaguely reminiscent of the bed I purchased for Bella several months ago. I gently close her door and, swinging our clasped hands like carefree children, Bella and I stroll to our own room.

We try to remember to be quiet for our daughter's sake…but thankfully, Renesmee is a heavy sleeper.

And so the days unfold in a similar fashion. On the fifth day after Bella awoke, the three of us enter the spacious living room to find a pair of familiar faces in addition to our usual group. Quil and Embry have withdrawn from Sam's pack to join Jacob's. Bella is ecstatic to see her old friends again, and they are equally eager to meet Renesmee.

Shortly after this reunion, and right on schedule, Charlie and Sue pull up the long drive in his cruiser.

The house is soon filled with heat, emanating from the wolves' thickly muscled bodies, and the unrelenting thrum of beating hearts.

Jasper continues to be in close proximity to my wife, and I can tell from her riled expression that it is starting to become a nuisance. I think, however, if she knew the reason for his desire to stay near her, she would be a little more tolerant.

Before I can bring it up though, she makes her complaints known that evening after Renesmee is in bed.

"Yeesh!" she exclaims, throwing up her hands as she paces the length of our bedroom. I gaze at her fondly; she is so unintentionally adorable when she is angry. "If I haven't killed Charlie or Sue yet, it's probably not going to happen." She lets out a low growl, and then pauses in mid-step to glare at me. "I wish Jasper would stop hovering all the time!"

I walk over to her and place my hands on her shoulders, smoothing my palms over the silken skin of her upper arms. "No one doubts you, Bella," I murmur soothingly, "not in the slightest. You know how Jasper is – he can't resist a good emotional climate." She frowns up at me in confusion, and I clarify with an affectionate smile, "You're so happy all the time, love, he gravitates toward you without thinking."

I pull her to me, tucking her head under my chin, my arms encircling her waist. For more long nights than I care to remember, I agonized over the decision to change my Bella into a vampire. Surely she would come to despise me for subjecting her to this life – to be forever condemned to darkness, to always be at war with the monster that demanded blood every second of every day for eternity, to never change.

_"I dream about being with you forever." _Bella's softly murmured words surface in my memory.

She never had any doubts about choosing this life, choosing to be with me, like me, for all time. And that was what made it so unbearably frustrating. I worried that she did not fully understand the consequences of becoming immortal, and that would lead to her resentment of me for ushering her into this existence.

Her hands tenderly stroke my back, and I cannot help the relieved sigh that escapes me. There is no denying what Jasper has been reading from her emotions – the reason why he orbits around her like a moon caught in the gravitational pull of a planet.

Bella is happy. More than happy, she is euphoric. My brother has not felt anything so pure or intense since the day he walked into that ratty little diner fifty years ago and found Alice waiting for him.

Like Jasper, I am also hopelessly drawn to Bella's all-encompassing joy. It covers both of us like a warm blanket, fueling my own elation at being able to keep her with me forever, to call her my wife, to know that she is reason why I exist…

Her slim fingers tug on the hem of my shirt, her lips brushing under my jaw, and I leave my musings for another time as we tumble onto the bed.

Two days later, the euphoria is splintered by a harsh jolt of fear.

The morning had begun as usual: Bella, Renesmee, and I left the cottage and joined the others at the house, covered in glistening droplets from the light rain. Rose was ready with Renesmee's cup of blood, handing it off to the little girl – who now has no trouble whatsoever with feeding herself – while Alice immediately criticized Bella's outfit, complaining that her new sister was ignorant of all the time and energy she had spent putting together a decent wardrobe.

The two of them got into a mild spat and Carlisle pulled me aside, murmuring in a low, quick voice that he had stumbled upon some new information, albeit from a sketchy source, about children like Renesmee.

Listening to my father intently, I let the thoughts of the other minds surrounding us drift into the background so that I can concentrate fully – until a pure soprano voice that is at once strange and yet completely familiar rings out from the other room.

"Momma, where is Grandpa?"

I arrive at Bella's side just as the last syllable is leaving Renesmee's tiny mouth. Her deep brown eyes are full of expectation as she stares at her mother, leaning away from Rosalie, whose frozen arms continue to support her slight weight even as she gazes blankly at her niece.

Bella forces a smile, though her wide scarlet eyes are vivid with fright, and she manages to reply, "He'll be here soon, sweetie." Her voice quivers towards the end, but I do not believe our daughter noticed. Silently, I reach for Bella's limp hand, weaving her slim fingers through mine.

Renesmee's exquisite face clouds with puzzlement when everyone continues to stare at her, motionless and wearing the same empty expression, and a question starts to take shape in her mind. But before she can ask it, Jacob recognizes her uncertainty and instantly seeks out a resolution.

"C'mon, Nessie." He gently removes her from Rosalie's immobile hold while effectively masking his own apprehension and starts towards the front door. "Let's wait out on the porch for Grandpa. I bet I can spot his car first." The door closes very softly behind them.

My eyes flash to Rosalie. "What happened?"

"I – I don't know." She shakes her head helplessly, worry blazing in the depths of her topaz irises. "She had just touched my cheek and asked me about Charlie and I told her that I wasn't sure where he was. Then she…she spoke." Rose's gaze falters, widening with a sort of blind horror, and her thoughts begin to scream at me. _She's only a week old – and she's already speaking in complete sentences? What if her growth keeps progressing at the same rate? Will she…will she age and then die like a human? No! No, we can't lose her – not after Bella –_

I cannot listen to any more. Blocking the ceaseless stream of panicked questions, I turn to Bella, squeezing her hand to catch her attention. "Bella." She looks up at me, but her eyes seem distant – peering at something that I will never be able to see. "Bella, love?" I raise our intertwined hands and brush her cheek with the back of mine. The gesture is a well-remembered sign of affection for us both, and the veil obscuring her clear gaze recedes. "I promise you –" I vow to her fervently "– we will figure this out. Carlisle has tracked down another source. He and I will look into it right away – right now, even." My lips curve into a faint smile. I desperately hope that my promise has alleviated at least some of her fear; I will have to focus on hiding my own in order to comfort my wife. She is, and always will be, my first priority.

"Go outside with Jacob and Renesmee," I suggest in a gentle, velvet tone, my knuckles caressing the smooth line of her jaw. "Charlie will be here soon. I'll come find you if we discover anything new."

I start to release her fingers – when suddenly her grip tightens and she clutches my hand in both of hers, her beautiful eyes so large that they consume her pale face. "Edward," she whispers, scarcely louder than a breath. Her gaze continues to plead with me, and once again I wish in vain to hear her thoughts.

A few seconds pass…and then I can no longer endure her delayed response. "What is it, love?"

Her mouth opens, then closes again. Her chest heaves in a deep breath, her fingers tensing around my hand, and I feel as if I am teetering on the edge of sanity as I wait for her to tell me what is on her mind. Surely she knows that she can tell me anything. I try to convey this with my eyes, silently beseeching her to reveal what she is thinking before I go utterly mad – and finally, her lips part, releasing a whispered voice that is rough with emotion.

"I'm afraid."

My still, wintry heart shatters into a million crystal shards for her. I am undone by her soft confession – I know how hard it must have been for her to admit her fear. Bella hates to show any weakness. She fails to comprehend that the bravery she has demonstrated since the moment we met is an extremely rare and precious treasure, and is something that she will carry with her – that is ingrained in her very essence – for the rest of eternity.

She must be truly frightened if she feels the need to acknowledge her feelings out loud.

The pieces of my fractured heart throb painfully – and so quickly that even I do not register the movement, Bella is in my arms. Her small hands rest atop my chest and she nuzzles her face into my collarbone, inhaling deeply, though her breath hitches a little when I kiss the top of her head. "Oh, Bella," I sigh into her hair. I want nothing more than to banish all traces of fear from her eyes, while knowing that it is not within my power to do so.

But I will keep trying nonetheless.

"Sorry…" she mumbles, pressing herself closer, and I immediately hush her feeble apology.

"No, love. You have nothing to be sorry about." I lay my cheek against her hair, luxuriating in the texture of the silken tresses as they caress my skin. "I want you to always, _always_ tell me how you feel. Nothing is more important to me than that."

She nods the tiniest bit, but makes no attempt to break away from our embrace. Perfectly content to hold her for as long as she needs, I breathe in her alluring floral-and-freesia scent, letting it fill my head until the aroma overwhelms every troubling thought concerning Renesmee for a brief moment.

It is rather ironic, I suppose. Even when Bella was still human and her blood sang for me each time I inhaled, scorching down my throat like tongues of white-hot flame, the fragrance would never fail to calm me. I had missed it immensely when I left – when I was foolish enough to believe that I could go on existing without her – that sometimes, after practically starving myself for weeks, my brain would conjure illusions of her intoxicating smell to tease my senses. If ever I had doubted that a vampire could go insane, I now knew that I had clung to that precarious edge for months, haunted by visions that seemed all too real.

Bella slowly lifts her head, waking me from my dark rumination, and meets my eyes with a soft, tranquil expression. I open my mouth to ask her if she is all right, when her gentle fingers touch my lips, stilling the question on my tongue. "I'm okay," she tells me, a faint smile brightening her heart-shaped face.

She turns around, though my arms are unwilling to release her. She notices my reluctance and grasps my left hand, pulling it gently so that my forearm coils around her waist and I shuffle forward, eager to remain as close to her as possible. "Alice?" she calls. "How soon until Charlie gets here?"

While she is speaking, Bella fiddles with the gold circle on my third finger, stroking the polished metal and lightly twisting the band. I force a deep breath into my lungs. She probably has no idea what she is doing to me right now with the seemingly innocent motion, but there is something so…_sacred_ in the way she touches my wedding ring – almost with a possessive reverence.

I know that it is just a symbol of our commitment to one another. At some point I will have to take it off in order to maintain the human charade at our next home; my father of course wears his constantly, but my brothers – Jasper in particular – have not worn theirs for a few decades. Emmett only keeps one on long enough for the ceremony whenever Rose wants another wedding, and then it's tossed into a drawer in their bedroom. I imagine there are quite a few rings stored in some dark corner by now, wedged beneath pairs of socks or folded shirts.

And yet, though it is only a trinket in comparison to the ring I gave Bella, it is also her way of marking me as her own. She has not touched my ring or given the slightest note of its presence since the moment she shyly slipped it over my knuckle on our wedding day – and while her distracted fidgeting may be of no consequence in her mind, I feel as though she is claiming me all over again.

That notion stirs such a tumultuous myriad of emotions and impulses that I can scarcely concentrate on keeping my feet rooted to the hardwood floor.

A sudden wave of calm washes over me, seeping into my pores and loosening the tautness in my muscles. Raising an eyebrow, I glance across the room at Jasper. He is leaning casually on the doorpost of the kitchen, arms crossed over his chest, and when our eyes meet, he lifts his broad shoulders in a miniscule shrug. _Trust me, Edward – _his dark gold eyes are mocking – _you needed my help. Emmett is right; you_ are_ a one hundred and ten-year old ticking time bomb of sexual tension just waiting to go off. Good thing you've got Bella – if anyone can keep up with you, it's her. Especially while she's still a newborn. All that strength is bound to come in handy._

My lips part, displaying my clenched teeth in a silent warning. He ignores my black glare, arching his sandy-blonde eyebrows and adopting a ludicrously false expression of innocence. _Bella's bet was with Emmett, not me, remember? I agreed to…pass on a few 'observations' to you in exchange for first dibs on our next hunting trip. Alice made me promise not to say anything to Bella, but she didn't tell me to drop it. After all… _He winks, one side of his mouth quirking into a roguish grin. _…what are brothers for?_

I roll my eyes, exasperated – while also fighting to suppress a smile of genuine amusement. Despite the fact that I have long since suffered the brunt of my brothers' practical jokes, usually pertaining to my 'relationship issues', I confess that Jasper's teasing has awakened a twinge of satisfaction deep inside my being. For one like me who has been alone amidst the constant company of three bonded pairs for over half a century to be reminded, even in the form of a tongue-in-cheek aside, that I finally know what it means to be completed by another…a muted sense of the joy I felt earlier with Bella at our cottage ignites within me and I duck my head, allowing the smile to reveal itself on my face.

At the same time as my unspoken conversation with Jasper, Alice skips over to Bella, answering her question in a blithe manner. "Twelve minutes. He had a little trouble deciding on a gift to buy for Renesmee. Sue got him on the right track, though." She beams, her honey-colored eyes alight with something akin to mischief.

"A gift?" Bella throws a worried look over her shoulder at me, then turns back to Alice, saying, "He doesn't have to get her a gift. It's not her birthday, and we're nowhere _near_ Christmas, so why would he –?"

"Grandparent's prerogative." Alice shrugs her tiny shoulders, still grinning. "Take it up with Charlie, not me. I'm just telling you what I saw." My sister's pixie-like countenance tilts up towards me, and I am momentarily surprised by her stern frown. "Now, Edward." She puts her hands on her hips, her tone scolding. "Don't go berserk over Charlie's gift. It will hurt his feelings, and your daughter's going to love it anyway, so you might as well get over it."

"Alice…"

She holds up a small white hand, palm out, and talks over my attempted protest. "Stay out of my head. You won't get anything." And she begins to internally recite the Gettysburg Address just to prove her point.

"Alice, how can I 'get over it' if you won't tell me what I'm supposed to get over?" I exclaim, intensely frustrated. Why does she have to be so _difficult?_

She smiles beatifically. The expression transforms her from infuriating sister into a charming black-haired sprite. It does not have the intended effect on my temper, however; if anything, Alice's sweet smile only serves to aggravate me further. "All I can tell you is that it will help prepare you for the future."

A low growl vibrates inside my chest. Bella runs her fingertips over the back of my hand, and the sensation of her touch on my skin is instantly soothing. Nevertheless, I open my mouth to deliver a final statement –

"I know, I know." Alice dances past us, holding out a hand towards Jasper, who is grinning with obvious adoration at his petite wife. " 'You're awfully small to be so hugely irritating'," she quotes me in a comically deep voice, and then they both head out the back door, sprinting hand-in-hand into the forest.

A half-second goes by in silence. Then Bella comments quietly, "I love Alice, but sometimes…sometimes she drives me absolutely crazy."

I laugh under my breath – a release of pent-up tension that is far more productive than destroying another television set. "You and me both," I murmur in agreement.

She grudgingly pulls away from my embrace, sighing, "I'd better make myself presentable." She vanishes up the staircase, the bathroom door closing softly behind her. After thirty seconds she returns, the irises of her eyes once again disguised by nondescript brown contact lenses.

We reach for each other in unison, and talk in low voices with Carlisle and Esme to while away the time.

Charlie arrives a few minutes later with both Sue and Billy in tow.

I can hear Jacob calling out greetings; thankfully, Renesmee stays silent. She is intelligent enough to understand that many of the things she is capable of doing at such a young age would not be considered normal in a human's eyes – and she is perceptive enough to have picked up on her mother's anxiety and discerned the cause.

Footsteps and the squeak of Billy's wheelchair tires draw nearer, and soon there is the soft rustle of a plastic bag as Charlie coos in a tone that I would never in the past have imagined him using, "Look what I have for you, Nessie…"

Renesmee's abrupt burst of excitement explodes in my skull, so much so that she can barely focus on the object her grandfather purchased for her. Sue and Billy are both amused, more with Charlie's behavior than the actual gift – but Jacob's thoughts are a snarl of pleasure, disquiet, and hope.

Through his unwavering gaze, I finally catch a glimpse of the mysterious present, and I suck in a startled breath at the image that holds his attention so rapturously.

Bella spins around, her eyes intent on my face. "What is it?" she inquires, apprehensive.

I exhale heavily and rake a hand through my hair, shaking my head. "I have to give Sue points for ingenuity," I mutter to myself. Bella's grip tightens impatiently on my arm; I meet her nervous stare, smiling faintly in reassurance. "It's nothing too terrible, love – Alice was simply being overly cautious. Although…" I scrutinize her expression, contemplating my sister's earlier words. She had seemed more concerned with _my_ reaction rather than Bella's, yet that did not rule out any unforeseen outcomes, especially given the fact that a newborn is hard to predict. "I am a bit surprised that she did not give a word of warning to you. You must be more tolerant than you let on," I add with a smirk, though my teasing is only half-hearted. I am entirely aware that Bella outshines me in more ways than one, which she would never agree with, but most especially when it comes to controlling my rather abrupt responses to unexpected situations.

She scowls fiercely at me, her lower lip pushed out, tempting me to lean down and catch it between my teeth… Mercifully, the compulsion is interrupted by the front door swinging open to admit our guests.

I swiftly grasp Bella's hand, uncertain of what to expect from her, and she shoots a puzzled glance sideways just before Charlie enters the room, closely followed by Jacob and an ecstatic Renesmee.

I hear Bella's breath stop as her sharp eyes focus immediately on our daughter. Charlie, who is growing more observant with each passing day spent here, notices her blank stare and explains, "I haven't seen any toys around this place and I wanted to get her a little something." He rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment, mumbling, "I was having a hard time deciding on the right one, so Sue helped me out. I thought it was pretty cute."

Renesmee looks up at her mother with shining eyes, clutching her gift to her chest as if she never wishes to let go, but enough of the object is exposed for Bella and I to receive a fairly comprehensive look.

The russet-colored fur of the plush stuffed wolf in her grasp nearly matches her bronze curls. Renesmee hugs it tightly, pressing her flushed cheek against the creature's fuzzy head – a huge grin lights up Jacob's face, echoed dimly by Charlie, who looks aside to hide his reserved smile.

Bella seems incapable at the moment of forming any type of response. She gawks at the toy, mouth hanging slightly open, a dozen emotions flitting across her divine features – so I elect to speak up, offering her father a proverbial olive branch.

"Thank you, Charlie. It was very thoughtful of you. And I believe it is safe to say that Renesmee loves her new toy," I comment wryly, mustering the effort to flex my lips into a tight smile. Billy and his son erupt into laughter, Sue smiles very faintly, and Charlie blushes self-consciously.

"Yeah." Bella finally finds her voice, gazing at her father with an indulgent expression, though her slender fingers are bent into fists at her sides. "Thanks, Dad. It is pretty…" she swallows hard, her upper lip twitching as she holds back a sneer. "…cute," she finishes awkwardly.

The silence that follows quickly becomes uncomfortable. Esme rescues us all by assuming the natural role of gracious hostess, inviting Charlie, Sue, and Billy to make themselves at home in the living room.

Jacob trots over to Bella, his black-brown eyes suddenly anxious. "The wolf thing wasn't my idea, Bells," he offers hastily. "Honest. That is totally on Sue; she just thought it'd be funny. So don't go getting all worked up about some stupid –"

"It's okay, Jake." Bella gingerly lays a palm on his arm, but she needn't have used so much caution. Jacob no longer flinches from contact with a vampire's icy skin – apart from Rosalie of course, but that is for a completely different number of reasons. "Renesmee likes it, and that's all that matters."

"You're not mad?"

She grins, shaking her head from side to side. "I'm not mad."

Jacob's thoughts turn mischievous yet remain vague. I suspect he is deliberately keeping himself from dwelling too much on his next words, for he mentions on a whim, "Then it won't bother you if she happens to get a few more of these little guys –" he pats the stuffed wolf's head with a large red-brown hand "– so she can have her own pack, y'know? And you'll be fine with the slobber she might get on her face, the hairs sticking to her clothes, and that we might start calling her 'wolf girl'…"

He chuckles as Bella starts to push him into the other room while he is still talking. "Jerk," she growls under her breath, and gives him one last shove, causing him to stumble onto the couch. Renesmee, nestled in the circle of his arms, is barely jostled.

She continues to snarl very quietly until I take her hand and raise it to my lips, placing a brief kiss on her fragrant skin. Her eyes immediately soften as I hold her gaze, unblinking. "Enjoy the time with your father, Bella," I murmur tenderly. "I'll be in the study with Carlisle if you need me."

Forcing my feet to take the first step towards the staircase, I slowly drop her hand and walk away, feeling her eyes on me until I round the corner on the first landing.

For the next ten days I immerse myself in research, determined to uncover any insight, the smallest shred of knowledge that will help us understand Renesmee or know what to expect.

The source Carlisle told me about has nothing new to offer – except to suggest that perhaps we should speak to the Ticunas ourselves. After all, Kaure had obtained enough understanding of her people's legends to recognize what was happening to Bella on the island. Maybe there is someone among the tribes who can give us more information.

My father and I agree that we may plan such a trip eventually, but not until we have exhausted all possible resources that we have access to from our home. The darker, colder part of my mind hisses in the back of my head nearly every day that we have already reached a dead end – and it is at those times I realize that I have been apart from Bella too long. She is my sole refuge, the only remedy able to extinguish the self-destructive fires of rage and frustration smoldering deep within my being.

I spend my nights basking in her presence – breathing in the smell of her skin, cherishing every sigh and low murmur of my name that crosses her lips – and my days are used to further our investigation, interrupted by brief, enjoyable periods of retreat with my wife and daughter.

The whole situation is unbearably infuriating.

My brain demands answers, pushing me ceaselessly to travel to the ends of the earth in order to find what I seek…but my heart refuses to allow me to leave my Bella and our precious little girl even for a few hours, let alone several days.

In the late afternoon on the twelfth day of practically useless information gathering, I inform Carlisle that I need a break and leave his study to find Bella. It is simple enough: her scent wafts like tendrils of fine perfume throughout the air inside the house and the delightful sound of her laughter echoes from the living room.

As my foot lands soundlessly on the bottom step of the spiral staircase, I spy her and Jacob sprawled on the wooden floor, Renesmee between them, smiling as the little girl stacks brightly colored building blocks into a perfectly proportioned home for her stuffed Jacob-wolf.

All three look up as I approach; Bella and Renesmee wear identical gleaming smiles of pleasure while Jacob waves a hand in casual greeting.

Folding my legs, I sink fluidly to the floor beside my wife. She leans toward me as soon as I settle in place and kisses my cheek, whispering, "I missed you."

Jacob makes a gagging noise in the base of his throat. Bella casts a violent glare in his direction and mouths, "Shut up, Jake." He just grins in response.

In the meantime, Renesmee crawls over to me and scrambles into my lap, pressing her tiny, warm palm to my jaw. She is annoyed by the lack of matching colored blocks – she wanted to build the little house to look the same as ours but she has no more white blocks.

"I'll buy you another set. As many as you need," I promise her softly.

Her angel's face brightens with a glittering smile, and I distinctly hear her high, musical voice in my head. _Thank you, Daddy._

I give her a quick hug, immensely pleased as always when she calls me 'Daddy'. Suddenly she straightens up, her thoughts curious and strangely intent as she peers around my right arm.

Alice breezes into the room carrying an enormous crystal vase full of vibrant autumn blooms and sets it precisely in the middle on the coffee table. A second later she darts into the dining room – only to return with an armful of flowers, making a beeline for the end table next to the sofa.

"Hey, Shorty," Jacob calls, and frowns at Bella in confusion when she hushes him. Alice pays no heed to any of us; we may as well be invisible.

"Don't bother trying to talk to her now, Jake – she's in full decorating mode," Bella tells him sotto voce, a smirk curving her full lips as her vivid red eyes track Alice's movement around the room.

Renesmee watches her aunt for a number of minutes, her deep brown eyes attentive while her mind hums in concentration, and I struggle to understand what exactly is holding her interest.

Then all time seems to stop.

Lifting her small chin in confidence, this beautiful, one of a kind hybrid who has lived among us for a mere three and a half weeks…rises to her feet with the otherworldly grace of a vampire and walks a dozen or so steps to the windows. Once there, she spins around, grinning in triumph, her creamy skin and bronze ringlets backlit by the golden rays of the sun streaming through the glass.

Jacob is the first to realize that she wants to be congratulated and bursts into applause, the smile on his face genuine but strained around the edges. His eyes, however, are clouded with alarm. His thoughts are not much better; half-formed, frightened notions of watching the center of his universe wither away in front of his eyes stir long-buried aches in my heart and I quickly withdraw from his mind, shifting my gaze to Bella.

The years I have spent reading her expressions afford me an insight into her thoughts that my gift does not, and I can easily decipher the blind panic lurking in the depths of her crimson stare. Nevertheless, she raises her slim hands and begins to clap as well, smiling at our exultant daughter.

I copy her motions; the muscles of my face seem stiff and unwilling as I offer Renesmee a proud grin. Inwardly, my thoughts are churning in a tumultuous mixture of dread for the future, self-flagellation that I have been unable to discover an answer, and grief for the mounting worry that all these unknowns causes my Bella to feel.

That night, we enact the mutual decision to not voice our individual fears, choosing instead to escape to our own private universe for a number of hours. And at dawn, while Bella, Renesmee, and I cross the shadowed clearing in front of the house, the alternative solution that I had been suppressing for weeks is then allowed to surface in my mind.

I hold it within me, silent and fermenting like a poison, as September fades into the colorful backdrop of October – bringing chilled air and longer nights, which Bella and I are inclined to take full advantage of with unending enthusiasm.

During this time, Renesmee continues to mature at a startling rate. Alice and Rosalie commission themselves with the project of creating a baby album for their niece, and change Renesmee in and out of several outfits over the course of one day, snapping pictures all the while. But the excess clothing has more than one function: because of her unusually rapid development, Renesmee outgrows her garments on a daily basis. Sometimes I wonder if my sisters are secretly thrilled with an excuse to plan a dozen shopping trips in a single week.

According to Carlisle's calculations, the percentage of physical growth is gradually slowing, but her mind is far more advanced than an average adult human and perhaps even some vampires. Moreover, as indicated by the recorded numbers, if the rate of decrease remains consistent, Renesmee will be fully mature in approximately four years.

She will reach the end of her life at fifteen years.

And that unspoken option trickles through the grooves in my brain, tainting each thought as it materializes and reminding me of its existence with every passing moment. I resist the urge to speak it aloud until the day after Halloween, when the last small nudge throws me into the uncertain realm of desperate measures.

My father and I are holed up in his study – surrounded by books, wrinkled parchment, computer print-outs and scribbled notes from phone conversations – and the rest of the family is involved in a variety of pastimes in and around the house. Rose and Em are in the garage tinkering with his Jeep. Alice and Jazz went for a drive along the coast in her Porsche, and Esme is in the kitchen writing up a list before she heads to the supermarket in town to restock the fridge for our resident wolf pack.

As for the dogs in question, Jacob was called back to La Push for a meeting with Sam and the others. "Shouldn't be long," he'd said to Bella. "A couple of hours, tops. I'll be back before you put Nessie to bed."

Renesmee seemed a bit out of sorts when Jacob vanished into the trees, so Bella took her upstairs to my old room where they sifted through the mélange of belongings and listened to music until I heard the little girl yawn mightily over the calming strains of Clair de Lune.

Through her eyes, I watch Bella place her on the gold coverlet draped over the wrought-iron bed and retrieve a thin volume of poetry from my bookshelf. She then settles beside Renesmee, propping up the pillows, and begins to read aloud from Tennyson. Her soft, lilting voice tugs inexorably on my attention; I find myself swept away in the flow of the verses, and the manuscript in front of me becomes blurred, unintelligible.

" 'Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font: The firefly wakens: waken thou with me.' "

Renesmee studies her mother's face as she reads, providing an inescapable distraction even more powerful than the sound of her voice.

" 'Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost, and like a ghost she glimmers on to me.' "

"Edward?"

I blink a few times before focusing on Carlisle, peering down at me with bemused golden eyes. "Yes?" I reply, most of my awareness still riveted by the image of Bella's full lips moving with the rhythm of Tennyson's poem.

" 'Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, and all thy heart lies open unto me.' "

"You seem a bit…distracted, son." Carlisle pats my shoulder lightly. I hardly notice. I think I tell him that everything is fine, but I am not sure.

" 'Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves a shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.' "

"We can stop for tonight," he suggests, a faint smile playing on his mouth. "I must confess that it is all too easy to get discouraged from the lack of information. Perhaps…"

" 'Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, and slips into the bosom of the lake: So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip into my bosom and be lost in me.' "

Bella then falls silent and I inhale a deep breath, awakening from the spell her voice wove around me – and Renesmee, as well.

Carlisle's last words register in my brain a second later. "Perhaps what?" I ask.

"Perhaps it is time to consider the situation from another perspective." His words are hesitant, and then he adds mentally, his gaze intent on my face, _I know that it has crossed your mind already, Edward – I've seen the conflict in your eyes, and Jasper told me last night that he hasn't felt this much emotional discord from you since Bella was changed._

I reply sharply, "You are suggesting that we regard_ that_ as an option? You know as well as I that the wolves will never agree to it. Jacob, especially."

Apology is etched on every plane of his features. He continues the discussion with his thoughts only, stating, _Jacob, just like the rest of us, wants what is best for Renesmee. If it becomes a necessity to preserve her life by giving her immortality…he will accept it._

Jacob's inward lament from the day Renesmee taught herself to walk abruptly emerges from my memory, filling my head as it did then with his loud, frantic voice: _I can't just sit here and watch her die! She's my whole life – she's _everything_ to me! How am I supposed to go on living when she's gone? There has to be a way to stop this, to keep her here, safe and happy. Whatever it is…it'll be worth it._

"Yes." I sigh heavily, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of my nose with two fingers and squeeze my eyes shut. "If there is no other option, he will accept it for Renesmee's sake." Opening my eyes, I lower my hand and stare hard at my father. He gazes back calmly, though the tenor of his mind is remorseful, waiting for me to finish. "But we will not mention this to him for the time being. There are still other avenues available for us to pursue. We have some time before –" I break off, listening in shock to the dulcet tone chiming like a silver bell from inside my old room.

" 'There is sweet music here, that softer falls than petals from blown roses on the grass, or night-dews on still waters between walls of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass –' "

Renesmee. Renesmee is reading Tennyson aloud, her clear eyes following every word on the page in front of her with flawless articulation. And the time that I had just mentioned suddenly becomes all too short.

Bella's white hand trembles visibly as she takes the book from our daughter's hands. "If you read," she asks, the fear barely controlled in her voice and an artificial smile on her face, "how will you fall asleep?"

Renesmee immediately contends with her mother's remark, a picture of Jacob and his promise to return before she went to bed materializing in her mind – but I can no longer pay attention. Carlisle is watching me, his gold eyes burning with significance, and he poses a question mentally.

I nod once. "The arrangements will need to be made soon. I'll take care of it…after I talk to Bella."

In the darkest hours of the night, entwined in each other's arms within the sanctuary of our bedroom, I relay to Bella in a low murmur the need to organize a trip to South America. "Carlisle and I have exhausted all the research we could get our hands on, and we're still nowhere closer to discovering any answers. Perhaps if we follow the legends to their source, we'll be able to piece together the clues hidden inside the myths."

"You're talking about going back to Brazil," Bella states with certainty. Her fingertips trace the arch of my brow, the shape of my nose, and the outline of my lips while we confer. My skin sings under her touch.

"Yes. The Ticunas have the only solid evidence we've come across in regard to children like Renesmee. If indeed others like her ever existed, they could be the reason why the legend was born and passed on through the generations in the first place." I cannot resist stroking the silky softness of her bare arm. My palm glides slowly from her wrist all the way up to her neck, and my hand curls gently, instinctively, around her cheekbone.

She leans forward and brushes a string of feathery kisses down the side of my face. When she comes to the lower edge of my jaw, I tilt my head back, sighing as she continues to leave a trail along my throat with her lips. "When do you want to go?" she breathes against my collarbone.

It takes me a few seconds to remember what we are talking about. "As soon as we can get everything ready," I tell her, my voice husky. The hand framing her cheek moves backwards so that I can weave my fingers into her dark hair, and I smile as she places a kiss over my silent heart, remarking mildly, "Unless you can think of a reason to wait."

To my surprise, Bella sits up, her heavy-lidded gaze suddenly thoughtful. "Actually…I can. I want to have Christmas with Charlie. It'll mean a lot to him, Edward," she includes upon spotting the frown pulling on the corners of my mouth. "After all the crazy stuff he's been through in the last six weeks, I owe him the chance to celebrate Renesmee's first Christmas with us."

"Fair enough. I suppose we can afford to wait a little longer." Grinning, I add, "It will give Alice and Rosalie more time to pack."

She scowls petulantly down at me, ignoring my attempt to pull her closer, and demands, "How come you always used to argue with me over every little decision and now just_ agree _with everything I say?"

"Because…" In a blindingly fast move, I grasp her around the waist, holding her tight to my chest. She gasps a little in surprise, and my body instantly reacts to the feel of her soft curves against the hard lines of my frame. "I have learned to fully appreciate the benefits of submitting to your requests," I inform her throatily, and she smiles in satisfaction right before I crush my mouth to hers, moaning quietly as her fingers tangle themselves in my hair.

Completely surrendered to her embrace, my angel surrounds me, fills me, and carries me with her to the only heaven I will ever want or be granted as the night echoes with the steady beat of rain. I leave behind all thoughts of the future, and for once refuse to dwell on any aspect of Renesmee's well-being or the impending journey to Brazil. Surely this plan, relatively unassuming and straightforward when compared to others, will be implemented in the same manner.

I should have remembered what often befalls the best-laid plans.

One blustery, mid-November day, the entire family – Jacob included – are gathered in one room without experiencing a thick layer of tension hanging above us like the low-lying slate-colored clouds covering the gray sky outside.

Emmett, Renesmee, Bella, and Jasper are engaged in a two-a-side chess match. Emmett is determined to teach his niece to play more aggressively – Renesmee tends to rely on subtlety rather than a show of force in her strategizing, proving yet again that she takes after her father – and Bella wants to gain a better comprehension of the game in order to hold her own against someone with decades of practice at their disposal.

Carlisle and I had abandoned the map of South America we were examining when he received a call from the hospital: a car accident victim with a brain injury was waiting in emergency for transfer to a larger facility in Olympia and started hemorrhaging.

My father hangs up the phone and immediately looks to Alice. She flicks briefly through images of the future, her honey-gold eyes distant, and then refocuses on his expectant face. "You'll get there in time," she announces with certainty. "A tear in one of the pial arteries of the cerebrum is the cause of all the trouble."

He thanks her and heads for the garage, kissing Esme on the forehead as he passes.

"How long will he be gone?" Esme turns to Alice once the quiet thrum of the Mercedes accelerates onto the highway.

Smiling broadly, Alice replies, "You know Carlisle – he can't resist an opportunity to help someone. Once he's done with the brain injury, there will be a broken arm, a split scalp, tonsillitis and a cracked rib."

My mother's expression is torn between shock and deep affection for her husband. "I hope those injuries are related to four different people," she jokes half-heartedly.

"Oh, they are. And they'll all be very grateful that Dr. Cullen was on the job today." She giggles, the sound tinkling like wind chimes, and Esme joins in, proud as always of Carlisle's benevolent nature.

Jacob, listening to the two of them in growing bewilderment, starts to complain internally. _The whole thing is totally bizarre. She knows what's killing somebody and tells Carlisle how to fix it. It's…creepy. How do you get used to something like that?_

"You don't," I tell him, wearing half a smile. "You just learn to keep an open mind. And a store of patience." I throw a wink in Alice's direction; predictably, she sticks her tongue out, though her eyes sparkle with merriment.

Eager to get back to their game, Emmett claps once and rubs his palms together in anticipation. "Okay, Nessie," he declares, his ocher eyes intent on the chessboard. "Uncle Emmett is about to show you how we're gonna win this thing."

With a confident smirk on his face, he selects the knight closest to Jasper and Bella's king and moves it forward, completing a box formation with a pawn and a bishop. Leaning back in his seat, Emmett crosses his arms over his chest, gloating, "Check."

The rest of us turn to watch as Jasper peers at the board, his expression blank while a strategy begins to take shape inside his head. Interestingly enough, instead of proceeding with his plan of retaliation, my brother looks sideways at Bella, asking her in a low voice, "What do you think, Bella?"

"Me?" She blinks, startled.

Jasper nods once. "Of course. We're a team, after all," he reminds her, grinning faintly, "and you're not going to learn how to play chess if you just sit there and watch." He gestures toward the pieces arranged in front of them, raising his eyebrows – and Emmett, sensing that victory is imminent, chortles to himself.

Bella stares at the board, her forehead creasing as she frowns in concentration, unconsciously leaning forward. In the meantime, Alice flits around the table to stand behind Renesmee, her eyelids flickering as she attempts to see the outcome of the game…but the vision is cloudy because Bella has not yet made a definite decision as to what move she will use.

Then, she hesitantly raises her hand, and everyone waits with bated breath, wondering which piece she will choose. Her fingertips land on the white queen – Jasper's grin widens in satisfaction – and she slides it across the board to Emmett's bishop, removing the piece from play. "Well done," Jasper congratulates. Bella beams at him in response, her ruby-colored eyes aglow.

Scowling, Emmett quickly counterattacks by pushing his rook to the opposite end of the board, stopping just two squares from Bella's queen. A soft gasp escapes from Renesmee, and she clambers into her uncle's lap, placing her small hand on his thick neck with a frantic look on her face.

"What?" he growls as she replays the mistake he just made, immediately following with an image of the next logical move their opponents will strike back with, even as Jasper nudges their queen to the side, defeating the rook.

"Oh," Emmett mumbles, abashed. Renesmee sighs almost wearily and returns to her own seat, her lips puckering into a displeased pout.

I remark, chuckling under my breath, "She's only two months old, Em, and even_ she_ saw that move coming. Maybe she should be giving you some pointers, because clearly, you've still got a lot to learn."

"Shut it, Edward," Emmett barks irritably, but he nonetheless bends over to whisper to his niece, "You go ahead and take a turn, Nessie."

Needing no further encouragement, Renesmee rearranges their pieces into a more defensive pattern over the next few moves, but Jasper's tactical organization leaves her and Emmett outnumbered on the board. The little girl manages to relieve her mother and uncle of a knight and a rook before the situation becomes totally unsalvageable, and then Rosalie chooses to saunter into the room, pleased with the modifications she just finished making on her BMW's intake manifold.

As Emmett spies his wife, his usual tendency to impress her flares into being, and he stretches his hand over the board, announcing smugly, "I've got this one, kiddo." He picks up their remaining knight and uses it to knock aside a white bishop. "Hmm." He challenges the opposing team with his eyes, daring them to attack. I shake my head, letting out a resigned sigh, and Renesmee rolls her dark eyes as she folds her tiny arms across her body.

Bella and Jasper turn to one another in unison. He jerks his chin very slightly towards the board, indicating that she should do the honors. _Emmett's going to go berserk – losing to her again,_ he comments inwardly, and I nod in agreement, trying in vain to hide my smile.

With a superior expression, Bella guides the white queen to the appropriate space and sets it down with a flourish. "Checkmate," she says triumphantly.

The dumbfounded look on my brother's face is priceless. His mouth gaping open like a fish out of water, he splutters, "Wait a second! That's not checkmate!"

Rosalie sniffs and descends elegantly onto the sofa beside Esme, ignoring her husband's childish protest, while Renesmee pushes herself away from the table and flounces over to Jacob.

He scoops her into his arms, murmuring encouragingly, "You'll beat 'em next time."

"That's not checkmate!" Emmett shouts again. He appears to be on the verge of another outburst; he felled half a dozen trees after losing the arm-wrestling match with Bella.

"Give it up, Em," Alice chirps. "Jazz and Bella won fair and square, so don't be a sore loser. You're setting a bad example for Nessie," she concludes, a cheerful smirk lighting up her elfin face.

Emmett jerks upright from his chair and spins around, a deafening snarl ripping from his throat, and looms over our petite sister. She simply stares up at him, unafraid. "You were standing behind me," he accuses, a deep growl rumbling beneath his words. "You were helping them cheat, weren't you?" He snarls again, the sound reverberating off the walls and high ceiling.

Bella stiffens, her full lips curling over her teeth, but Jasper touches her arm, sending a wave of calm in her direction. "I did no such thing," Alice retorts, lifting her chin. "And don't snarl at me. Have your little temper tantrum with Rose, if you must. I have no patience for it." Her tone grows hard and ice-cold by the end of her reply, reminding us all that though she may be the smallest vampire in our family, she is still a vampire – and she_ hates_ being called a cheat.

Quite suddenly, Jasper detects a surge of amusement from Emmett at the same time that I hear from his thoughts, _She is too much fun when she's pissed._ He growls again, baring his teeth to hide the grin threatening to show on his face.

Though Alice undoubtedly knows that he is baiting her, she opens her tiny mouth and lets out a vicious, guttural roar; the glass windows tremble from the sheer force behind the noise.

"Children!" Esme warns sharply. "Not in the house."

A moment later, Emmett starts laughing, nearly doubling over. Alice follows suit soon after, their shared mirth harmonizing like a chorus of church bells. "I never get over how funny you look when you snarl," Emmett remarks between chuckles.

Playfully, Alice jumps up on her tiptoes to smack the back of his head, declaring, "You're such a moron, Em."

"I know." Grinning, he reaches out and musses her hair with a meaty hand – and she actually lets him, for about two seconds, before dancing out of the way.

"Well," Alice begins in a teasing voice, putting her hands on her hips, "maybe we should ­–" She inhales a sudden, quick breath, her topaz gaze nebulous, and I open my mind fully to her thoughts just as the vision coalesces behind her pupils.

Once it fades, my sister and I hold each other's eyes for several moments. She wonders what this could mean and how we should respond; I wonder how it will affect Bella.

Of course, the woman who is always in the forefront of my mind is the first to speak up – recognizing that Alice's vision is a significant one. "What is it?" Bella stands up from her seat next to Jasper and is at my side in less than a second, glancing from me to Alice and back again. "What did you see?"

Alice is the first to answer her favorite sister's questions. "A package is arriving today."

"A package?"

She nods, her tone measured, but her stare watchful on Bella's face. "A wedding gift," she clarifies.

There is a short moment of silence, and then Emmett mutters, "Well, that was sort of anticlimactic."

"From Italy," I insert in a low voice.

The quiet that follows is heavy with stress. Bella whirls sideways, looking up at me with wide scarlet eyes, and I reach out to cradle her pale face in my hands. "It's fine, love, I promise," I murmur reassuringly, stroking my thumbs across her cheeks. "We just have to adjust our travel plans."

"What do you mean?" she whispers, trying to disguise the raw fear in her voice.

At that instant, all of us can make out the deep rumble of a diesel engine slowing on the highway – preparing to turn onto the long drive to the house. Bella stiffens visibly. "It's fine," I say again. I watch the turbulence in her crimson irises calm and then harden into chips of polished ruby, her delicate jaw tightening under my palms.

While we listen to the delivery truck as it bounces and sways through the trees, Bella asks in confusion, "How did they know about the wedding?"

I look over at my sister expectantly. Bella follows my line of sight, and when her gaze connects with Alice's, she replies, "I sent a wedding announcement to Volterra while you and Edward were on your honeymoon. I'd gotten a vision of Caius planning to send a hunting party" – she bares her teeth in disgust – "to verify whether or not you were still human." She crosses her arms lightly over her chest and raises her pointed chin into the air, her elfin features somehow menacing as her lips form a grim smile. "Then I saw that sending the announcement would delay their arrival. They spent days trying to make sense of the entire situation – it was actually quite funny."

The truck slows to a stop on the edge of the lawn, and the engine is cut. The driver's mind is weary from hours of making deliveries, but still registers awe at the sight of the massive white residence looming behind the thick branches of the ancient cedars.

Footsteps march up the steps to the front door a minute or so later, and then a brisk trio of knocks fills the lingering silence. Offering Bella a faint crooked grin, I walk across the room towards the door and pull it open with a curious expression – as any human would. "May I help you?" I inquire politely.

_Holy… _The driver studies my face, his awe increasing exponentially, and wonders if this is the vacation home of a professional model or small-bit actor. I barely contain the desire to roll my eyes at the man's simplistic notions. "I, uh –" He looks down at the clipboard resting atop the sizeable rectangular box in his hands. "I got a package here for Edward and Bella Cullen."

"I'm Edward."

He gives me the box after removing his clipboard from the top, and then holds out an electronic device with a small LED screen. "Signature required," he explains.

I smile, careful not to show my teeth. "Of course." Tucking the box easily under one arm, I pluck the pen from his outstretched hand and sign neatly on the line shown on the screen. "Is that all you need?"

"Yes, sir. You have a nice Thanksgiving." He spins on heel and trots off to his truck, abruptly anxious to remove himself from my presence.

I close the door and carry the package into the dining room – Bella is right behind me, and the others follow as well – and set it on the mahogany table.

We all study the seemingly inoffensive brown box with wary eyes for an indeterminate amount of time, hardly noticing as the back door opens and shuts very softly. _What did I miss?_ Carlisle asks cautiously, folding his coat over an arm while he walks into the room, finding a place beside Esme.

An elegant, gold-embossed envelope is taped on top of the brown paper, addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Edward Cullen in handwritten Old World calligraphy.

_Aro's writing, _my father observes in subdued realization. I nod absently and peel the envelope from the package, flicking open the blood-red wax seal with one finger.

Bella sniffs at the thin wisp of air caused by the motion, her brow furrowing. "It smells like…" She struggles to put a name to the unique aroma drenching the paper in my hand, and I turn to see her expression just as her eyes light up with recognition. "Incense."

She leans in, linking her arm through mine and resting her cheek against my shoulder as I pull a square of heavy white paper from the envelope.

I read aloud the congratulatory note in a low, even voice. It is formal and effusive – yet somehow Aro manages to convey his words as though we are all old and dear friends. After zealously wishing many happy returns to the newlyweds, he offers a brief endearment to Carlisle…and then cleverly inserts a thinly veiled threat in the parting line: _"I so look forward to seeing the new Mrs. Cullen in person."_

The hint of a growl accentuates that statement as I say it, and Bella presses herself closer, wordlessly soothing my volatile temper as only she can.

I drop the note onto the tabletop and glance around the room, listening to the thoughts that penetrate the otherwise hushed atmosphere.

Renesmee is curious about what is inside the box, but also concerned for her Momma and Daddy, whom she can tell are upset. Bella apparently blessed our daughter with her own unusually sensitive perception.

Jacob despises the Volturi with a passion – which he is clearly demonstrating by the venomous thoughts permeating his mind. He visualizes them as the embodiment of the foe he was born to defend against.

He is absolutely correct in that assessment.

Uneasy, Jacob sweeps Renesmee into his arms, and both of them watch the unfolding scene with keen dark eyes.

Directly across the table from me, Carlisle maintains his aura of serenity, though he is well aware – as am I – that if Bella does not make an appearance at the Volturi stronghold soon, they will come to us.  
At his side, Esme radiates motherly concern for our family as a whole and a fierce protectiveness towards her newest daughter.

Opposite Esme at my father's immediate left, Rosalie is tensed like a coiled spring, her mind whirling in a tumultuous storm of resolve and agitation. More than anything, Rose seeks to preserve the secrecy of our way of life, and she intensely dislikes any person or circumstance that could endanger that secret.  
Her thoughts, as per usual, also touch on Renesmee – and what action the Volturi may take if they learn of her existence.

Filling the gap between Rosalie and myself, Emmett crosses his arms over his massive chest, looking unintentionally intimidating, but his mind is relaxed. Seldom does my brother find himself in a situation where his customary laid-back demeanor is broken by unease.

Jasper is taking mental note of the emotions saturating the room while projecting a minimal layer of calm to balance out the irregular spikes of anxiety occurring in tandem with some errant thoughts.

Next to him and on Bella's right, Alice stands on her tiptoes to peer at the postage labels on the box, remarking in an unsurprised manner that the cost of insuring such a gift must have been astronomical.

Aloud, she comments nonchalantly, "You may as well open it up, Bella. It's for you, not Edward."

I can tell she is about to decline, so I bend down to murmur quietly into her ear, "We can't send it back, love."

Her lovely face crinkles up with a martyred expression and she heaves a sigh, yanking the package closer. A quick rip and tear later, Bella unfolds the flaps of the box and gingerly puts her hands into the mound of white packing peanuts. Unconsciously, everyone leans forward as she lifts out an ancient wooden coffer with ornate scrollwork and adorned with gold filigree. The domed lid is inlaid with lustrous fragments of mother-of-pearl, and gemstones of every color sparkle along the lower rim. It is truly a beautiful, albeit opulent, work of art.

"Holy crow," Bella breathes in scarcely a whisper. A kind of horrified amazement molds her delicate features, and she sets the wooden box on the table with overdone caution – like she is afraid that she might damage it.

_Pretty. _Renesmee touches Jacob's face with her tiny hand, thinking about the chest and the way all the colors glitter in the yellow-white glow from the chandelier overhead.

He snorts quietly and mutters, "If you say so, Nessie." _I think Bella should just throw it out. She doesn't need to keep anything from those monsters._

I could not agree with him more, but the fact that Aro would send a gift at all is significant. He was intrigued by Bella's extraordinary ability to block her mind from my talent – as well as Jane's and his own when they met in Italy last spring. There is always an ulterior motive where the Volturi are concerned, but as to what that motive may be, I am at a loss.

Alice pipes up, "The box itself is a priceless treasure." A brief flash of the carved wood smoldering in blue-green flames crosses her vision. _We can always donate it to the Seattle Art Museum rather than destroy it, _she suggests to me, her thoughts a bit reproving. She goes on to comment, "It would outshine just about any piece of jewelry besides the one inside it."

Bella whips her head to the side and gawks, wide-eyed, at her best friend. "There's _more?"_ she exclaims in shock.

I fit my palm into the curve at the small of her back, hoping to chase away the apprehension that is causing her slender body to turn to frozen stone with my touch, and reply, "Wealth, like time, means little to the Volturi. No matter what is inside this box, just remember that to Aro it is nothing more than a trinket."

She measures my calm expression for half a second, her mouth twisting into a grimace, and then states in a resigned tone, "I'm not going to like it, am I?"

I grin broadly at her. "Not at all." She sighs, and I run my fingers gently up and down her spine. "Just remember what I told you," I murmur the reminder in her ear.

Looking on in silence, my family and I watch Bella unhook the gold clasp on the front of the chest, suck in a deep breath to brace herself, and slowly open the lid.

Cushioned on a pillow of black velvet is a necklace made of burnished gold. The chain is thick and scaled like the sleek hide of a snake, and it seems to be fairly short; when worn, it probably coils neatly around the base of the throat. Its only adornment is a round white diamond about the size of a golf ball – which is easily worth as much, if not more, than any of the famous gems on record.

Bella makes no move to touch the necklace, even though it technically belongs to her now, and gazes down at the extravagant gift with a strangely blank look in her crimson eyes. Carlisle examines the piece of jewelry with a knowledgeable stare, mentioning to the room in general, "I always wondered where the crown jewels disappeared to after John of England pawned them in the thirteenth century." He shakes his head. "I suppose it doesn't surprise me that the Volturi have their share."

Straightening up, Bella lifts her chin fractionally and meets my father's eyes. "The Volturi need to see that we followed their orders, that I'm immortal, and they need to see this _soon._ I do not want them anywhere near Forks." Her gaze darts in my direction fleetingly. I am suddenly and vividly reminded of another meeting around this very table; Bella wore the same exact stubbornly defiant expression on her heart-shaped face then as now, and her words from that time echo within my head. _"I can't have _them_ coming _here."

An uncomfortable knot begins to form in the pit of my stomach as I recall her statement in its entirety.  
I sincerely hope that her line of thinking is not parallel to the absurdity she made known that night, because I will not stand for it.

After nearly a century of practice in reading my face, Carlisle advises mentally, _Let her speak, Edward. She is very intelligent, and she may see a solution that eludes the rest of us. _Aloud, he inquires, "What do you recommend, Bella?"

She inhales an unnecessary, deep breath. It does not escape my notice that she will not look at me. "There is only one way to keep our life here safe," she says in a firm, ringing voice. "I have to go to Italy."

Immediately, I grasp the meaning behind her words. Part of me wishes I did not. Still, I want to hear her say it out loud, and I want everyone else to understand precisely what she is intending to do. "When you say, _'I_ have to go'…" I prompt in a tense whisper.

"I mean that I will go to Italy." Bella finally turns to look at me – her bright eyes soft, yet resolute. "Alone."

That one word ignites an explosion of rage, fear, and conflict in the core of being, its shockwaves reverberating within every cell of my body and fueling the instinctive need to keep the focal point of my world safe. My hands curl into fists as I fight to maintain a tenuous hold on my temper. I stare into the angelic face of my wife, my mate, the one thing I cannot live without, and insist through my clenched teeth, "You are not going alone." Abstractedly, I observe with a vague sense of pride that I had been able to talk without snarling like a beast, though it is impossible to deny the growl that is swelling inside my chest. I swallow once to stifle it.

"They won't hurt me," Bella contends, her tone placating. She lays one hand over my unbeating heart, and my muscles start to betray me – instantly relaxing from the tension under her caress. "They have no reason to. I'm a vampire. Case closed."

I want so much to believe her, to trust in her naïve logic…but the risk of losing her –_ forever_ – is too great. I will not survive that kind of pain again. "No." The growl rises in my throat, vibrating through the air as I shake my head vehemently. "Absolutely no."

Her hand travels upward to press against my cheek, and I unwittingly surrender my anger to the soothing gesture. "Edward," she murmurs tenderly, still attempting to console me even though we both know that she has already won this argument, "it's the only way to protect her."

In unison, our gazes unlock and shift to Renesmee, whose tiny form is tucked securely in Jacob's arms.

Bella is right, of course. We cannot let the Volturi find out about Renesmee. Aro is a collector of exceptionally gifted vampires; he has perfected the art of scouring the globe for talented individuals to recruit, and surrounds himself with only those who have proven to hold unusual power.

It is part of the reason why he has become so interested in the inner workings of our family. We are the largest coven in the world aside from the Volturi, and their opinion of us is shifting from bemused curiosity to vigilant caution – from oddity to threat.

Aro craves the omniscience that Alice's gift and mine could bring him if we were to join his coven, and though he managed to conceal the thoughts well from me when we last met, I learned of his jealousy of Carlisle. Discovering that his perceived rival has also included a vampire/human hybrid – a truly rare and exceptional commodity – among his family could very well likely push Aro towards open confrontation.

Bella's reasoning is infallible. She is the only one whose thoughts are unknowable to Aro because of her uniquely shielded mind. Her presence in Volterra will affirm our obedience to their edict that she be made a vampire, and Aro will be unable to discern any information about Renesmee from her mind.

I release a quiet breath in resignation. Peering deeply into my eyes, Bella waits patiently for me to accept defeat, a faint gleam of solemn triumph in her scarlet irises. "Alice." I address my sister without looking away from my wife. "Can you see any problems with Bella's trip to Italy?"

Alice concentrates for a few minutes, her eyelids falling half-closed as a jumbled haze of images fills her mind. Together, we wait for the vision to sharpen…but it remains indistinct. _Edward, I'm worried, _she blurts out internally, and her disquiet serves to escalate my own anxiety, my basest instincts of self-preservation screaming for me to avoid this potential danger at all costs.

My imagination conjures an image of Bella enclosed on all sides by ancient stone walls and crouching defensively within the ominous shadow of Felix, a member of the Volturi guard who had wanted her as a snack when she last set foot in Volterra.

Bella must feel the tension reenter my body, for she narrows her eyes intently as she studies my expression before moving closer and placing her other hand on my chest. The desire to envelop her small frame in my arms causes them to ache, but I suppress my longing for the moment; if I take hold of her now, I may never find the strength to let her go.

Circling around Bella so that she is able to see both of us face to face, Alice begins to explain what she and I witnessed through her mind. "My visions are…unclear," she admits, the stress evident in her tone of voice. "Everything is all blurry – and it's got me worried."

"Why are they blurry?" Bella asks, confused. "Is it like what was happening before, with the visions of the newborns?"

Both Alice and I shake our heads simultaneously. She answers with certainty, "No, that was different. Those visions were hard for me to see because of deliberate interference. This time…" A frown darkens her pixie-like features. "Sometimes my visions are similarly hazy when there are outside decisions that _might_ conflict but are not solidly resolved." She shudders delicately, and her smooth white brow puckers in concern. "It makes the whole situation very iffy."

"Which makes me question the reliability of this plan," I interject fiercely. My fists are so tightly clenched that the skin over my knuckles is leeched of all color.

"Do you have a better idea?" Bella challenges.

"I'll come with you." The impulsive offer flies out of my mouth. Before she can contradict me, I clamp a hand around her wrist and drag her over to one of the computer desks. "I know that I can't come with you to Volterra. But that doesn't mean that you have to make the whole trip alone." Using my free hand, I call up the appropriate information and then jab a finger at the screen, declaring, "There's a connecting flight from London to Florence. I can wait for you there. If anything should happen, Alice will tell me and I'll be able to get to you in a few hours." I stare at her, exultant, as she glances briefly at the screen and then turns to me.

Bella twists her wrist subtly, freeing herself from my grasp – then she weaves her slender fingers through mine and squeezes my hand gently. The expression on her face is difficult for me to interpret; sympathy, love, anger, determination, and dread all manifest fleetingly across her pale features.

Wishing desperately for her to agree, I can almost feel my heart sink with grief when I notice the sad refusal taking shape in the depths of her bright eyes. "Edward." I want to close my eyes to shield myself from the soft pleading in her musical voice as she says my name, but I cannot find the will to escape from the relentless pull of her warm gaze. "We can't _both_ leave Renesmee. Please, stay here with her." A ghost of a smile crosses her full lips. "I'll be back so soon you won't have time to miss me." She uses my own words as a means of persuasion, and my mouth twitches in response. "Please?" she presses.

My arms wind around her back and pull her towards my body. Burying my face in her dark hair, I murmur in defeat, "You know that I can't say no when you plead with me."

"Thank you."

"But…" I nearly choke on the words as they leave my mouth. "If something happens to you…"

Bella wraps her tiny arms around my waist. "Nothing is going to happen," she proclaims firmly.

_If I may, _my father thinks, politely interrupting our conversation. I raise my head and look towards the dining room entrance; Bella follows my line of sight. Once he has our full attention, Carlisle says in a diplomatic manner, "Perhaps we can reach a compromise. Bella, would it be all right if _I_ accompany you to London? That way, someone will be close enough to intercede should you need help. I know such an arrangement would make me feel more at ease," he adds with a smile, and Bella grins back, a flicker of relief softening the tense lines around her eyes. She nods in consent, and the plan is set in motion.

Alice, more worried about the ambiguity of her visions than she lets on, persists in scanning the future for the next three weeks. Her frustration grows when everything that clears from the haze is unrelated to Bella's visit to Italy. A vision of a new trend in the stock market is of little interest – but the possibility of Irina coming to reconcile with us sparks curiosity in everyone's thoughts. A fierce winter storm will cover the Pacific Northwest with a thick blanket of snow in six weeks, and Bella's mother Renée will call around Christmas, wanting an update on her daughter's health since she believes that Bella is still recovering from an obscure virus.

Renesmee turns three months old in early December, and the following day I purchase tickets for Bella and Carlisle's trip. She is adamant that the journey will be very short and has no intention of informing Charlie, which is probably a wise decision.

Jacob is still reeling from the fact that I am allowing Bella to go to Italy at all, and lets her know frequently that she is 'being stupid about it' and that he would stop her from going if he could.

He also argues with me on an almost daily basis in regard to Brazil. Today, Renesmee, whose thirst is demanding that she go on a hunt, mercifully interrupts his rant. The little girl appears to look about two years old physically, though the shape of her small body is leaner and more elegant than that of a human toddler, and she continues to astound us all with her level of intelligence. She has a very clear understanding of right and wrong and our way of life, but she has less of an inclination towards animal blood than the rest of our family and would prefer to live on donated blood, which is infinitely more appetizing.

In a stroke of genius, Jacob created a game out of hunting animals for he and Renesmee – challenging her with getting the first kill, the largest, the most, and so forth. And thus far it has worked superbly.

The pair of them race out the back door – Jacob already goading Renesmee that he will catch the first deer – and I let out a sigh of relief. With him suitably distracted for a few hours, Carlisle and I can hammer out some details about calling on old friends of his who reside deep in the Amazon.

A flicker of movement at the edge of my vision claims my attention, and I glance up as Bella heads toward the doorway. "I'm going with Jake and Renesmee," she calls lightly over her shoulder.

Smiling, I reply, "Hurry back to me."

She returns my grin. "Always," she finishes our new standard of farewell, and streaks off into the forest as snowflakes begin to swirl through the crisp air.

It seems like only minutes have passed since they left when my phone suddenly buzzes in my pocket. Even without Alice's gasp and silent exclamation, I know immediately who is calling. The phone is snapped open and at my ear before the first ring has ended. "Bella."

She trills so quickly that her words flow in a ceaseless, anxious stream, "Come, bring Carlisle. I saw Irina, and she saw me, but then she saw Jacob and she got mad and ran away, I _think._ She hasn't shown up here – yet, anyway – but she looked pretty upset so maybe she will. If she doesn't, you and Carlisle have to go after her and talk to her. I feel so bad."

I hear a low rumble in the background. Through their mental bond, Jacob tells Seth and Leah to come with Carlisle and I to his location; he is worried for Renesmee.

"We'll be there in half a minute," I tell Bella while standing, Carlisle rising to his feet a half-second later, and race outside as I hang up the phone.

It is a simple task to pick out Bella's sweet floral scent and follow it into the wilderness. Seth greets me as he and his sister trail behind Carlisle. As promised, I arrive at my wife's side in thirty seconds – my father bursts into the narrow meadow shortly after. Renesmee is tucked securely in her mother's arms, her quick eyes studying each of us intently. Bella lifts a hand to point at a jagged cliff on the horizon. "She was up on that ridge," she informs us, and then chews on her bottom lip for a brief moment before remarking, "Maybe you should call Emmett and Jasper and have them come with you. She looked…really upset. She growled at me," Bella concludes almost sadly.

A snarl twists my mouth in response. "What?" The anger is thick in my voice, and I have the sudden need to find Irina and make a few things quite clear. My cousin made a poor choice in selecting Laurent as a mate. While I am sorry that his demise caused her pain, he deserved no less for threatening my Bella. If the wolves had not stepped in that day… I cut off that line of thought abruptly. Bella is safe, she will be with me forever, and I need to focus on the present moment.

I lean forward on the balls of my feet, preparing to make for the cliff and track Irina's scent.

The hand on my arm stops me from launching into the trees. "She's grieving," Carlisle reminds me. "I'll go after her."

My head whips to the side and I fix him with a hard stare. "I'm coming with you," I assert, controlling my tone so that it is low and even.

He holds my eyes for a long minute. _I know you are upset with Irina, but this rift between our family and Tanya's needs to be repaired. When we do speak to her, I could use your help with understanding her reasons for coming here in the first place – but only if you can curb your irritation. _He scrutinizes my expression once more, and finally nods in agreement.

We race towards the cliff, scaling it swiftly, and find traces of Irina's scent near the top. It plunges down the far side and then veers off to the southeast – heading for the sound. I push myself faster, leaving Carlisle to catch up, determined to stop her before she crosses the water.

But there is no sign of her on the icy bank. I open my mind and expand my awareness as much as I can, listening intently for her familiar consciousness, but I do not hear her at all.

It is a vain hope, but my father and I dive into the sound and swim to the eastern shore. Maybe we can pick up the trail again. We investigate every tree and leafy fern for miles in either direction for a hint of her scent, to no avail. Irina is gone.

Once back at the house, Carlisle places a call to Alaska and speaks to Tanya. Neither she nor Kate have seen their sister since they came to the wedding and do not understand why Irina would not come home after traveling so near to Denali.

"It's my fault," Bella mumbles after Carlisle says goodbye to Tanya and hangs up the phone. "Alice said she would come to patch things up with all of you and I ruined it."

"No, love." I wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders. "This is not your fault."

"If I had noticed her earlier, before Jacob phased –"

"It wouldn't have made a difference," I interrupt her gently, but resolutely. "Irina would still have overreacted when she saw the wolves and run away." Looking over at Alice, who is sitting cross-legged on the sofa, I ask, "Can you see anything? Where she might be going?"

Alice presses two fingers on either side of her head, closing her eyes in order to hone her focus. "I don't even think_ she_ knows yet," she mutters under her breath. Flashes of snow-covered mountains and green-black fir trees float through her head. "But she's not going back to Denali – I can tell that much."

Though I, and the others, think of Irina occasionally as the days continue on, her unexpected visit becomes a less important issue. Bella will soon depart for Italy along with Carlisle, and once they return, we would all be making the journey to South America. That immediate future is far more significant than the aimless wanderings of one grieving vampire. Irina's choices can no longer have any major impact on our family. What is most important now is assuring the Volturi of our compliance to their authority and discovering the answers to our questions about Renesmee. _That_ is the future that matters.

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**Author's Note:** I have to thank you all once again for your reviews – over 100! That is _so_ amazing to me!

Portions of the dialogue are cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 525-541.

The Tennyson poem that Bella reads is _"Now Sleeps the Crimson Petal"._ The imagery is so symbolic of Edward and Bella's relationship that I had to include it – especially the line that starts with 'Now slides the silent meteor on…'

Oh, and my favorite moment. Please submit a review to tell me what you liked the most, and I'll send a reply letting you know which part was a joy for me to dream up and write. An even trade, wouldn't you say?

Thank you!


	9. The Future

**Chapter Note:** This is probably the shortest time in between updates that I have ever experienced. This particular chapter just seemed to flow very swiftly and easily through my head, and I had a bit more time to work on it than I usually do. Plus, it's a bit shorter than most of the others. But please, don't expect that_ all_ of the chapters will appear this quickly.

As a word of warning – a very mild one – the content of this chapter is practically soaked in angst. It was the only way to write this fragment of the story. So, if you find that your heart is twisting into new, painful shapes inside your chest when you reach the end of this chapter (as mine was), I apologize. Just remember that it _does _get better.

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Nothing is more important than family.

That principle is one of the few things I can recall from my human life – and from the moment I opened my eyes as a vampire, the concept became a foundational pillar in my timeless existence.

We Cullens are unique to the world of immortals in far more than just our choice of sustenance. Unlike the nomads, who often remain solitary or pair up if it is convenient, all of us have formed bonds with one another that differ from the bond we share with our mates. Like a communal entity, we have learned to think not only of ourselves but also for each other, and for our group as a whole.

Although I love my parents dearly, would protect my sisters against all odds and die for either of my brothers, I have discovered from past experience that I can go on – at least for a little while – without their constant presence and care in my life.

I have also come to realize what, or rather _who,_ I cannot go on without.

It is a bit strange to me how the core of my existence, though it is still completely filled by Bella, has also expanded to include Renesmee. At one point I had practically begged my wife to let Carlisle cut our baby from her womb because I was convinced that it would kill her. I had nearly been right, of course, but looking back…how could I have ever considered such a horrific act?

The primary thought that comes to mind now when I think of my daughter is _'protect'._ That instinct has grown by leaps and bounds since I fell in love with Bella, and now Renesmee's presence has caused it to become almost feral. Though I would give myself to the flames for my family, there is no limit to what I would do to ensure the safety of my angel and our little miracle. And that thought is more disconcerting to me than I care to admit.

On this night, as I consult with my father once again in regard to the journey to South America, I am glad that my mind can collect so much information and remain observant all at the same time. Details swim through nearly every stream of thought in my brain, mixing with tendrils of worry for Bella and her visit to Volterra in just a few days, as well as a dark trickle of fear that the answers we need are nowhere to be found – in Brazil or any place on earth.

Yet in spite of all these facts, concerns, and aspirations swirling within my skull, other parts of my awareness are focused on what is happening around me as Carlisle and I plot out on a map our route across the rainforests of the Amazon.

My brothers, unsurprisingly, are discussing the hunting opportunities offered by the jungle.

"Some of the most fearsome predators are said to live in the rainforest," Jasper tells Emmett in a deep, excited voice. "It will definitely be more of a challenge to hunt a jaguar than a grizzly or mountain lion."

"I don't know if some_ cat_ will top an angry grizzly right out of hibernation, Jazz," Emmett remarks doubtfully. "With Edward on our side, it probably won't even take that long to track one down." _The kid's got like a sixth sense when it comes to finding one of those lions. Something about the smell of their blood… too thin, if you ask me…_ He begins to think about the hot thickness that rage injects into a bear's blood and quickly shifts his attention when his mouth floods with venom. "What about an anaconda? Now _that_ could be fun."

Jasper seems to be fighting the urge to roll his eyes. "An anaconda is a reptile, Em," he says with a hint of condescension. "Cold-blooded, remember?"

_I know that, _Emmett retorts mentally, and then aloud as well. "I_ know_ that. I was thinking it might be fun to wrestle with one. Wasn't that in a movie or something?"

Esme and Rosalie are engrossed in a conversation about what to bring. "We'll finally get some use out of those hiking packs we purchased from Newton's Outfitters," my mother comments, her soft-featured face illuminated by a smile. "They should have more than enough space for what we need."

"What about Nessie?" Rosalie asks. "None of us are sure yet if the humidity will affect her like it does humans. She'll need different clothes."

Esme looks pointedly at the statuesque blonde. "She has no trouble with the cold. But we will need to keep up appearances nonetheless." Her topaz eyes look aside thoughtfully. "Hmm… a half-dozen outfits each should suffice, and we can always stop in Brasilia or La Paz if we need to restock."

Rosalie sputters, "Do you honestly think_ six_ outfits will be enough?" She seems horrified by the thought of wearing the same clothing for more than twenty-four hours.

"It's a hiking expedition through the Amazon, Rose, not a photo shoot for Ralph Lauren," Esme reminds her gently, referring to a key part of our cover story should we be approached by any locals.

Rosalie huffs in annoyance, and turns her thoughts to her favorite outlet for venting her displeasure. _I don't know why the mutt has to come with us – we are perfectly capable of doing this without him…_

In reality, Jacob has become an essential member of our group. After listening to his arguments for days on end and then Bella's siding with him at our last family gathering, my father and I agreed that he could be useful. When – I refuse to think _if _– we make contact with the Ticunas, it is highly unlikely that any of them will speak to a vampire. Jacob will act as a liaison between the tribes and us; Carlisle is hoping that the visible proof of a human coexisting with our kind will convince the indigenous people that we are peaceable.

At the moment, Jacob is down at La Push with Sam and the others, preparing for his absence. Forks and the Quileute reservation will probably be safer than they have been for some time when we leave, but the wolves' compulsion to defend their land makes it impossible for them to not plan out contingencies should some danger arise while Jacob is away. The two packs have come to rely on him more than he knows.

Alice flits about the cavernous room very slowly, busying herself with adjusting the deep red bows tied to the evergreen garland looped along the banister of the staircase. Her mind, however, drifts in and out of the future as she continues to search her visions for what we can expect in South America.

I focus on her line of thought briefly, and am assaulted by such a deluge of images flashing before me like lightning that I quickly disconnect from her mind, wondering once again how my sister manages to keep her center in the midst of all that chaos.

The last and most important part of my awareness rests unwaveringly on my two reasons to continue to exist. Renesmee is lying fast asleep on the pale sofa, her bronze ringlets spread out in a tangled mass around her head, and Bella looks down at her from her place behind the sofa, her expression pensive.

The raging curiosity erupts, pleading for me to ask the ever-present question – until a sudden, forceful fragment of thought pushes itself into my brain. An image shimmers into view like a mirage: a willowy figure standing upon a rocky cleft overlooking a rolling countryside glazed by a silvery layer of frost, pale blonde hair swirling around in gusts of snow-filled air.

_Where is she? What is she doing? _An anxious, shrill voice narrates the vision. _I can only see that much and then it just – disappears. I don't understand… is it her indecision that is causing the future to be so uncertain?_

Jasper abruptly turns from Emmett and levels a calm topaz stare at his wife as she rearranges the vases decorating a large mahogany console in front of the windows and frets internally over our missing cousin. "Let it go, Alice," he commands softly. "She's not our concern." Then like a warm breeze, a wave of tranquility floats throughout the room, stealing away Alice's worry for Irina and smoothing the faint lines marring Bella's forehead as she looks up.

A bit peeved with her husband, Alice sticks her tongue out at Jasper before taking one of the crystal vases and carrying it towards the kitchen, distracting herself with the intent of removing some of the roses from the bouquet that are barely starting to wilt.

Bella looks back down at our slumbering daughter, no longer pensive but adoring, and Alice's brisk, light steps echo faintly in the background. Carlisle resumes his extrapolation of where we might find his friends in the Amazon, and I listen while watching Bella, appreciating the way the overhead light casts a rich brown luster on her dark hair.

Then the air is whistling across the facets of polished crystal. I see Bella's scarlet eyes flick upward just as mine swing over to the source of the sound. In a split second, the vase plummets from Alice's hands, shattering into thousands of glittering shards that litter the floor like confetti at her feet. Long-stemmed red and white roses and a pool of water lay strewn among the broken crystal – and in that one infinitesimal slice of time there is absolute silence in the house and in my head.

Staring hard at my petite sister's motionless back, I struggle to ignore the sudden explosion of thought flooding into my brain and concentrate on Alice.

A piercing mental scream of anguish, terror, and shock plunges through my skull like a knife, disrupting every other voice reverberating in my head, and the sensation is so painful that I reel backwards a half step.

Alice spins around to face into the room. Her golden eyes are clouded, her focus hovering somewhere between the present and the future, and are so large that they consume her thin, ashen face.

I fall into her eyes while her screams continue unabated and lock onto her familiar mind.

First there is darkness – utter blackness – and then the vision flares into life.

_Ice-coated stone silhouetted against a colorless sky._

_A blanket of snow, white and silent, on the ground._

_The whisper of velvet brushing against frosted pine needles._

_A tree line looms ahead…and then the shadows undulate, forming shapes – cloaked figures that ghost across the snowy clearing, menacing and foreboding._

A noise rips itself from my mouth – a gasp that chokes the air from my lungs and breaks in my throat just like the shattered crystal on the floor.

_"What?"_ someone growls, the wind of their passage rushing past me. Glass shards are crushed into a fine powder under swift, powerful footsteps, and then a strange rattling sound accompanies another fierce demand in the same voice. My brother, I recognize in some far corner of my mind. Jasper. _"What, Alice?"_

There is more sound, the stagnant air in the room shifting around me with movement, but I no longer notice.

The vision continues, relentless and devastating.

_Faces appear from within the shadows. _

_An angelic girl with eyes that promise agony. The ominously handsome face of an executioner. A hard smile and a pitiless ruby gaze framed by a curtain of silvery hair. The impassive stare of one who is eternally devoid of emotion._

_And the sad, remorseful expression opposed by filmy burgundy eyes filled with grim satisfaction._

_The dark hooded figures enclose the white clearing like a contracting noose._

_There is no escape._

_There are only red eyes, and shadows, and snow._

_And death._

Alice and I are finally released from the waking nightmare. The logical side of my brain comprehends that I am still standing in the exact same position as before, staring across the room and into the frozen face of my sister… but in the tainted fringes of my mind, the vision lingers – haunting and excruciating as it flickers randomly behind my pupils.

Jasper has his hands wrapped tightly around his wife's narrow shoulders. He shakes her, her head flopping from side to side limply like a rag doll, but her eyes do not leave mine. "What _is_ it?" he demands again.  
My brother wears the hard-edged frown of the soldier he once was, though he cannot totally suppress the panic that is beginning to thread its way into his thoughts.

It is as if my sister and I are a single entity, linked not only by my gift but also through the terrifying foresight we have just witnessed. Her lips, so drained of all color that they seem to disappear into the white circle of her face, part slightly – and I feel my mouth mirror the movement, forming the words that pervade her numbed mind as well as mine.

"They're coming for us." Our joint whisper is dead, hollow…the beckoning pall of the grave. "All of them."

"All of them," I repeat in a low moan. A humming noise begins to filter through the numbness inside my head – the thoughts of my family – yet I have neither the will nor the desire to bring their concerns into sharper focus.

"The Volturi," Alice whimpers at the same time. She mumbles hoarsely a second later, "Why?" Her breath falters as she holds back a cry of grief. "How?"

"When?" I choke out, fighting in vain to surface from the terrible emptiness that is siphoning away every emotion within my being. Struggling to catch my breath, I realize that I have not felt this hollow since those hellish twenty-four hours I endured while believing that my Bella was dead.

Bella.

Panicked, my eyes automatically dart to the side and verify that she is still here – a frozen statue beside the sofa upon which our daughter sleeps, unaware of the horrifying fate that looms on the horizon. I cannot bring myself to look at her face and see the same desolation in her eyes that is even now draining all vitality from my own spirit. I will not be able to survive it. She needs me to be strong…and I cannot give her that strength at the moment, for it is barely enough to keep my knees from buckling.

My mother clings to Carlisle's arm as though she too is on the verge of collapse. In a frantic whisper, she breathes, "Why?"

Jasper's violent, ice-cold outburst slashes through the quiet like a blade. _"When?"_ he hisses.

Inwardly, Alice cringes away from the vision, but she nevertheless delves into the future to seek the answer to his question. I remain connected to her mind; another set of eyes will aid us in our search, and in some odd way, accompanying her again through the nightmare makes me feel as though I am – if not protecting her – then at least offering support by not allowing her to experience it alone.

The black-robed figures emerge from the shadowed forest once again, but this time Alice concentrates on the environment, picturing the landscape of Forks and the Olympic Mountain range in order to discover any clues as to when this future will arrive.

"Not long," we reply in unison.

Alice goes on in a lifeless murmur, her ocher eyes remote, "There's snow on the forest, snow on the town. Little more than a month." A bleak groan signals the end of her response.

"Why?" Carlisle asks, imploring for one of us to give him a motive that would explain this madness.

Esme tries desperately to unearth some shred of hope. "They must have a reason," she says, her voice trembling. "Maybe to see…"

"This isn't about Bella," Alice interrupts dully. The vacant stare has left her elfin features, though she seems incapable of staying completely grounded in the present. This vision refuses to release her as no other has in the past. Jasper senses her despair and it pains him – he is already wavering beneath the crushing weight of desolation pressing down on the entire room – so he tucks her tiny frame into his side, his arm wrapped securely around her slender figure. She leans against him heavily, like she wishes to vanish inside of his body, and reveals, "They're all coming – Aro, Caius, Marcus, every member of the guard, even the wives."

_Impossible. _Jasper refutes her words in his mind even as he contends aloud, "The wives never leave the tower. Never. Not during the southern rebellion. Not when the Romanians tried to overthrow them. Not even when they were hunting the immortal children. Never," he concludes firmly.

I whisper a reply when Alice gives no answer, nor any outward sign that she is even listening to Jasper. "They're coming now."

"But _why?"_ my father pleads, anger with his old compatriots and desperation for understanding at war with one another in his mind. "We've done nothing! And if we had, what could we possibly do that would bring_ this_ down on us?" _I do not agree with most of their methods, but I have always treated the brothers with the utmost respect – and so have my children! What possible logic is responsible for this insanity? What purpose is behind this…attack…on our family?_

"There are so many of us. They must want to make sure that…" My voice fails. I will not speak the rest of that thought out loud, though the darker side of my nature snarls maliciously inside my head: _that they kill us all._

A sudden ache stabs into my muscles, and the craving to feel Bella in my arms, to hold Renesmee against my chest, is nearly overwhelming. I want to hide them from that terrible future – carry them to the very ends of the earth, or use my own body to shield them from those merciless red eyes. Yet I remain rooted in place on the hardwood floor. I must be strong. For her, for both of them.

"That doesn't answer the crucial question!" Carlisle is practically shouting at this point. He hardly ever raises his voice; he is just as on edge as the rest of us. "Why?" he asks for the third time. _Please, son, _he beseeches me mentally, _tell me what you and Alice saw so that we can face this together – _all _of us!_

Jasper gently squeezes Alice, stroking his palm along her upper arm in a soothing gesture. "Go back, Alice. Look for the trigger. Search," he tells her, the stress in his tone causing the twang of a southern accent to emerge in his words.

_I can't… _She shakes her head in denial, seeming to shrink into herself, and presses closer to Jasper. "It came out of nowhere, Jazz. I wasn't looking for them, or even for us. I was just looking for Irina," she confesses, glancing up at him guiltily. "She wasn't where I expected her to be…" She trails off, hazy images quivering into existence within her mind.

The vision of Irina on the hillside returns while Alice mutters to herself that the terrain is somehow familiar to her… And then the lithe silver-blonde vampire is standing in the ancient stone turret of Volterra, lifting a hand timidly to Aro, his expression speculative.

_That's the trigger,_ Alice snarls. Her bent head snaps upright, and her eyes are hard as steel, cold as death. _Irina gives them the excuse they need to move against us._

I inhale a quick, sharp breath as I listen to her analysis, and stare wide-eyed when she growls, informing the others, "She decided to go to them. Irina decided to go to the Volturi. And then they will decide… It's as if they're waiting for her. Like their decision was already made, and just waiting on her…"

Emmett, still braced for an attack near the windows, scoffs inside his head. _I don't get it. What could she tell them that would make us into Public Enemy Number One?_

_Irina is our family, _Rosalie mourns, her feet shifting unconsciously to bring her closer to her husband. _Whatever it is that they think we've done, how could she betray us like that? I don't understand…_

"Can we stop her?" Jasper inquires, breaking into Esme's train of thought – which is notably similar to Rosalie's.

"There's no way." Alice grits her teeth, her hand balling into a fist at her side. "She's almost there."

"What is she doing?" my father comments sadly.

Dimming my awareness of the other's thoughts and spoken dialogue, I risk another glance at Bella. Conflicting desires – to meet her wide eyes and find some small measure of comfort, or avoid her gaze altogether for fear that she will need reassurance that I cannot give – battle within my essence.

She is not looking in my direction, but rather staring blankly into space, her face wiped clean of emotion. Several seconds pass, and as I continue to watch her, the incessant need begins to claw at the pit of my stomach, demanding that I feel her skin and breathe in her sweet scent as much as possible while there is still time left for us.

I wince in response to the morbid notion – but do not miss the brilliant flare of intuition in Bella's vivid crimson eyes. My heart twists sympathetically as her expression crumples with anguish, and then she whirls around the sofa, falling to her knees soundlessly on the floor. Draping herself over Renesmee, she buries her face in our daughter's soft curls, her full bottom lip trembling uncontrollably.

Emmett remarks, "Well, we can't just sit around here and –"

Bella cuts him off in mid-sentence, her soft, wind chime voice filled with dismay. "Think of what she saw that afternoon. To someone who'd lost a mother because of the immortal children, what would Renesmee look like?"

A collective silence permeates the room.

I had caught up with her realization as soon as she mentioned the immortal children. That particular story from our histories has always haunted her, just as it has haunted every vampire who either lived through the purge or heard of it.

And it is at that moment I understand why Bella's revelation is not the blow I expected it to be. It is because I am still numb, and part of me wonders if I will stay like this indefinitely – for I know that we are all now standing on the executioner's block, waiting for the final stroke that will send us into oblivion.

_My God…_ Carlisle balances precariously on the verge of shock, his voice scarcely a whisper as he responds to Bella's question. "An immortal child."

Bella shudders violently, her arms tightening in a protective cage around Renesmee. Before I can even comprehend my body's intentions, my instincts have taken over and carried me to her side, bringing me to my knees. As she covers our child, so I shield her – wrapping my arms around her lithe frame and pressing my face into the dark curtain of her hair. Renesmee's fluttering heartbeat throbs loudly in the icy stillness, her slow, quiet breaths perfuming the air and mingling with Bella's intoxicating fragrance, and I lay one of my hands on top of the little girl's head, needing to touch her.

"But she's wrong," Bella insists weakly. She starts to babble, her muted voice nearly disappearing into the bronze ringlets of our daughter. "Renesmee isn't like those other children. They were frozen, but she grows so much every day. They were out of control, but she never hurts Charlie or Sue or even shows them things that would upset them. She_ can_ control herself." There is an edge of hysteria in her tone; she is waiting for someone to agree, for her reasoning to alleviate the pressure bearing down upon everyone. But relief does not come. My embrace intensifies around her tense body, and she forces herself to resume speaking – even more hushed than before. "She's already smarter than most adults. There would be no reason…" The rest of her words die in her throat, and like a shroud, deep depression falls over the entire room. For several bitter, lengthy minutes, there is no sound – save Renesmee's warm breathing and musical pulse.

I cannot let my Bella cling to a false hope. Though I would give anything in order to preserve that hope, to keep her from experiencing this hollowness with me, I owe her the truth.

Drawing strength from the familiar shape and feel of her body underneath mine, I brush my lips against the curve of her earlobe and whisper gently, "It's not the kind of crime they hold a trial for, love. Aro's seen Irina's_ proof _in her thoughts. They come to destroy, not to be reasoned with." We are already dead in their eyes – all that is left is completing the task.

Ever stubborn, Bella asserts, "But they're wrong."

I manage to hold onto a quiet, velvet tone while I reply, "They won't wait for us to show them that."

She turns her head slightly to look at me from the corner of her eye, a waning spark of tenacity lightening the vibrant ruby of her irises – still refusing to surrender to the desolation that has already swallowed most of our family.  
My chest swells with profound adoration, making it a little easier to breathe. How much I love her.

"What can we do?" she demands. A strand of soft brown hair falls over her cheekbone, partially covering her gaze. I bend down further and brush it aside with the tip of my nose, filling my lungs with her scent while trying to combat the despair threatening to overpower me. I had waited almost a century for this woman to awaken my soul and occupy the empty spaces inside my heart, and now we are poised on the threshold of total annihilation.

Was this the price I had to pay for loving Bella in the first place? I have always known that I am so undeserving of her love – the monster who had craved her blood since the day we met and had finally succeeded in stealing her from the human world – but what has_ she_ ever done to earn this fate?

The last four months have been heaven on earth; I had never known that I could feel so much joy. Is that why this is happening…because I am unworthy of having that kind of happiness forever?

_It's obvious, little sister. _Emmett's incorrigible mind pierces the agonizing fog clouding my brain. Squaring his massive shoulders, he calmly announces to the room at large, "We fight."

"We can't win," Jasper snaps in response. He has both arms encircling Alice's petite form now, his upper body curling in defense, his lips pulled over his clenched teeth.

"Well, we can't run," Emmett tosses back. "Not with Demetri around." He snorts in disgust. _Not that I would back out of a fight under any circumstances. I've been waiting for a chance to take on the Volturi's little bloodhound. And besides – I think we're all getting ahead of ourselves with the whole 'our doom is inevitable' thing. _"And I don't know that we_ can't_ win." A fierce gleam ignites in his tawny eyes. "There are a few options to consider. We don't have to fight alone."

Bella stiffens, a harsh growl rumbling in the back of her throat, and I lean away just as her head jerks upright, pinning Emmett with a blazing red glare. "We don't have to sentence the Quileutes to death, either, Emmett!" she shrieks. Renesmee fidgets a bit beneath her mother's grasp, a slight frown wrinkling her forehead, but remains unconscious. I lightly stroke her curls and the frown vanishes as she sighs, settling more comfortably on the plush sofa.

"Chill, Bella," Emmett says, unperturbed. _Man, she's got a shorter fuse than you, Edward, _he adds for my benefit. _Just give a sec to explain. _"I didn't mean the pack," he states coolly. Then, he arches a dark eyebrow in speculation. "Be realistic, though – do you think Jacob or Sam is going to ignore an invasion? Even if it wasn't about Nessie? Not to mention that, thanks to Irina, Aro knows about our alliance with the pack now, too." _Maybe they'll want to think twice before crossing both us and the dogs, _he muses to himself, imagining Jane's expression right before a huge wolf tears her head from her small body. He switches his line of thought an instant later, remarking, "But I was thinking of our other friends."

"Other friends we don't have to sentence to death," Carlisle murmurs very quietly. He has recognized my brother's suggestion of a strategy – such as it is – and can see the potential. I suppose I can, too…but it will be a gamble no matter what we choose. Yet what else can we do? Calmly accept our end and wait for it to arrive? Anything would be better than that.

Emmett looks over at our father with a satisfied expression, folding his arms across his chest. "Hey, we'll let them decide. I'm not saying they have to fight with us." He lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug while his mind begins to contemplate the refining points of his idea, speaking aloud as he continues to work them out inside his head. "If they'd just stand beside us, just long enough to make the Volturi hesitate. Bella's right, after all," he comments, a hint of a smirk on his face. "If we could force them to stop and listen. Though that might take away any reason for a fight…"

The slender white hand closest to me on the sofa contracts into a fist. Bella is still fuming, apparently. I rest my free hand atop hers, tenderly running my fingertips over the whitened knuckles, and the tension eventually starts to leak out of her muscles.

In the meantime, Esme latches onto the fragile hope Emmett has presented and replies in an eager tone, "Yes. That makes sense, Emmett. All we need is for the Volturi to pause for one moment. Just long enough to _listen." I will not watch my children die. Not again,_ she vows mentally, thinking of the baby she lost – and of my face after I had said goodbye to Bella, to everything I am, remembering the dead look in my eyes.

Rosalie's absurdly beautiful face is twisted into a scornful grimace. _This is ridiculous, _she sneers in her thoughts, the bitterness leaving a sour taste in my mouth. _Showing the Volturi that we have allies to stand with us is like waving a red flag in front of a charging bull – they'll only want to get rid of us that much quicker. _"We'd need quite a show of witnesses," she bites out derisively, her hard eyes locked on Emmett.

Esme nods emphatically, unaware of my sister's sarcasm, and proposes, "We can ask that much of our friends. Just to witness."

"We'd do it for them," Emmett says, eyeing the cynical mask on Rosalie's face. _She is such a pessimist, _he mutters internally for what seems like the millionth time. _She'll see… This is gonna work, and then everybody will be thanking me for coming up with this plan. _He stares back at her, unapologetic, and smiles. Rose glowers darkly before spinning on heel and flouncing over to the opposite side of the room. She will not stay mad at him for long, though. There is so very little time left for any of us, even if Em's strategy works.

Alice tugs at my attention, her mind submerging into the clairvoyance of her gift, and I immediately follow, absorbing as much as I can. "We'll have to ask them just right," she murmurs absently. An image wavers into view: Renesmee, her tiny hand outstretched, an expectant look on her cherubic face. "They'll have to be shown very carefully." Alice deciphers the meaning of the vision, and it is perfect in its simplicity.

"Shown?" Jasper gazes down at the top of Alice's spiky, black-haired head in confusion.

Together, she and I shift our eyes meaningfully to Renesmee. Her unique ability allows her to share every thought in her mind with another. Once our friends see her life story, they will know for certain who and what she is and why the Volturi have no justifiable cause to exterminate our family.

_But who…? _Diving into her visions once again, Alice flips rapidly through images of friends and acquaintances, naming them aloud as each face appears. "Tanya's family. Siobhan's coven. Amun's. Some of the nomads – Garrett and Mary for certain. Maybe Alistair."

"What about Peter and Charlotte?" Jasper asks hesitantly. He does not want his old friend and brother to be involved in what he considers a suicide mission in his own mind. _Peter and I have had enough of war; there is no reason for he and Charlotte to get mixed up in this fight. In any case, I don't see how a show of witnesses can help us. A face-off with the Volturi… _He suppresses a shudder. _None of them, not even Alice, know what it's like to stare down death. I wish I didn't. I never wanted her to go through something like this. _His hold around the one who had saved him just as completely as Bella saved me tightens a little.

Alice notices, perhaps sensing his inner conflict, and responds to his question. "Maybe." _Their presence is not as…solid as the others. _She abandons her memories of those two nomads and refocuses with greater intensity.

Carlisle prompts, "The Amazons? Kachiri, Zafrina, and Senna?"

A trio of dark-skinned faces flicker in Alice's mind, and then the lush beauty of a rainforest bursts across her vision, sputtering frenetically. Shadows move in the underbrush – a pair of shadows – and Alice senses something_ crucial_ about this particular image… The jungle vanishes in a flash of white light, and is replaced by a series of swift impressions that seem to have nothing in common: a cluster of towering trees, a torn piece of paper, a footprint in the mud, a half-moon veiled by wisps of cloud.

_We have no other choice. _Alice's voice, fragmented by grief, echoes inside my head. She shivers, her vision flicking backwards past the jungle and to those whom we are supposed to call upon for aid.

Her concentration centers resolutely on that part of the vision as she returns to the present. Her gaze peers up at Carlisle briefly, and something strange happens to her honey-colored eyes. Yet before I can attempt to define it, she lowers her head, staring down at the floor. "I can't see," she mutters flatly.

That is not true; she saw so much that even I do not understand everything. And the way that she is repeating the names and faces of our friends, over and over – like she is trying to keep me out of her head. "What was that?" I demand in a low whisper. "That part in the jungle. Are we going to look for them?"

"I can't see," Alice says again. _Renesmee is the key – Tanya, Kate, Eleazar, Carmen, Siobhan, Liam, Maggie – _She lists every name in endless repetition along with the statement about Renesmee until it blankets her every thought. And that confirms to me that she is deliberately obscuring her mind from my talent. But why? I frown at my sister in confusion, silently willing her to look up. What could she possibly have to hide from me?

When I open my mouth to ask one of my many questions, she goes on by claiming, "We'll have to split up and hurry – before the snow sticks to the ground. We have to round up whomever we can and get them here to show them." She sinks into her subconscious, the faces still popping in and out like flashbulbs – until one in particular seems to freeze in place. "Ask Eleazar," she states with certainty. "There is more to this than just an immortal child."

Unexpectedly, when she mentions that ancient taboo, the image from the jungle resurfaces in her thoughts. The picture is clearer; a pair of shadows darting soundlessly through the dense foliage – but this time there are more shadows in pursuit of these two. It is a search party.

In a burst of static, Alice blocks me from her mind, repeating her earlier words with renewed urgency. Splinters of ice lodge themselves into my ribcage as I stare at my favorite sister – my best friend. "There is so much," she whispers. She has yet to meet my eyes. "We have to hurry." She pulls away from Jasper, glancing fleetingly around the room as though cataloging this moment in her memory.

"Alice?" She turns reflexively at the sound of her name, but then seems to flinch from my puzzled gaze. "That was too fast – I didn't understand." _What are you keeping from me? _"What was –?"

"I can't see!" she screeches at me. Her expression is distorted in a vicious snarl, her topaz eyes hard and depthless. _I'm sorry, Edward. _She shoves this thought into my head, bathed in heartache, even as she yells in frustration, "Jacob's almost here!"

Shocked by her reaction and by the fact that I had been completely ignorant of the dog's approach, I can do nothing but stare as Alice closes down her thoughts and wrenches her gaze from mine.

Rosalie, her nerves raw and eager for an opportunity to display some aggression, begins to walk toward the front door. "I'll deal with –"

"No, let him come," Alice squeaks in a tense, high-pitched voice. "I'll see better away from Nessie, too." Grabbing Jasper's hand, she yanks hard, pulling him behind her as she rushes to the back door. "I need to go. I need to really concentrate. I need to see everything I can. I have to go." She peers over a shoulder in alarm when footfalls thud faintly on the porch steps. Jasper staggers to a halt, perplexed. "Come on, Jasper," she commands shrilly, "there's no time to waste!"

Alice tugs at his arm, practically vibrating with impatience, and the two of them sprint through the back door. "Hurry!" she calls out. "You have to find them all!"

Their alabaster skin winks brightly in the silvery moonlight as they cross the field, and a door opens somewhere behind me, but I continue to watch Alice and Jasper until they are enveloped by the smoky blue shade of the forest.

"Find what?" Jacob shuts the front door, his mind mildly confused, but more excited by the discovery that Bella and I have not yet taken Renesmee back to our cottage to totally grasp what he has just walked into. "Where'd Alice go?" he asks, studying the door standing ajar at the back of the house.

His curiosity only lasts for a brief second. Returning his gaze to Renesmee's peaceful face, he shakes his damp hair and then puts on a black t-shirt, chattering enthusiastically the whole time. "Hey, Bells! I thought you guys would've gone home by now…" He glances at Bella's expression and blinks, startled by the flat, dead look in her eyes. _What the –? What's the matter?_ Jacob frowns, his stare shadowed by his lowered brows as he scans the room.  
The broken crystal catches his attention, and he looks down at the floor, his dark eyes widening in dismay. _What the_ hell _happened? _he shouts inside his head, and the fingers of his large, red-brown hands start to tremble. Verbally, he grunts, "What?" His gaze swings back over to Bella. "What happened?"

Her lips part, but she does not speak. I expect that she feels the same way I do. There are no adequate words that would help to explain what has happened tonight.

Jacob's stare drops to Renesmee. _It's not her – is it? Is she…? _Horrified, he bounds across the room and kneels beside Bella, demanding, "Is she okay?" He lays a quivering palm on the little girl's forehead, and then slows his gasping breaths so that he can listen for Renesmee's swift pulse. _She seems all right, but – _"Don't mess with me, Bella, please!" Desperation is thick in his deep voice. He tears his eyes from Renesmee to look at Bella, who has not moved even a millimeter since Alice and Jasper left.

Her entire countenance is disturbingly vacant as she turns her head slightly to meet his anxious gaze. "Nothing's wrong with Renesmee," she tells him in a strangled tone, the words fracturing like brittle glass.

"Then who?" His black-brown eyes dart quickly around the room, landing briefly on my face, which is visible just behind Bella's head. _Something is seriously wrong here. This place feels like the inside of a tomb. _He shivers, even though ripples of heat roll along his bare arms to his shaking hands, the instinct to phase warning him that danger is near.

"All of us, Jacob," Bella replies in a choked whisper. "It's over. We've all been sentenced to die."

She lowers her head, hiding her face in our daughter's abundant curls, unable to say anything else. I cover her body with mine once again, resting my cheek on the crown of her head, and resist the impulse to close my eyes. The gray veil of my lids will encourage the images to jump into sharper focus, assaulting my brain with renewed ferocity – though my infallible memory can already recall each detail with painful clarity.

Jacob watches us for a moment, his thoughts in a tangled jumble of bewilderment, frustration, and concern. Eventually, he manages to voice a stilted question. "What. Are. You. Talking. About?"

_He has a right to know; he is as much a part of this family as any of us, _my father declares inwardly, his mind colored with the icy fog of despair. "The Volturi, Jacob." At the sound of Carlisle's faint, halting reply, Jacob peers up at him, apprehensive. "Alice had a vision. They are coming here. For us." He takes a shaky breath, and Esme coils an arm around his waist – not so much for consolation, but to just feel the steady strength of his body next to hers.

Jacob's forehead crinkles in puzzlement. "They're coming here?" His gaze flicks down to Bella and then returns to Carlisle. "But I thought that was why Bella's going to Italy – to show them that she's a vampire now."

"It's not about Bella." Measuring the young man with his wise golden eyes, Carlisle debates for a few seconds about whether or not Jacob will be able to control his rage when he hears the reason for the Volturi's imminent arrival. Though I would like nothing more than to pretend that I can sink into oblivion and feign ignorance of this whole ordeal, I lift my head a fraction of an inch and give my father a barely perceptible nod. As he had said to himself only moments ago, Jacob has a right to know.

"The vampire that saw the three of you out hunting a few weeks ago; her name is Irina." He flinches a bit as he says her name, but goes on. "She…decided to tell the Volturi what she had seen, and that is why they are coming. They believe that we have committed a heinous crime." Seeing the deep skepticism in Jacob's expression, he adds, "Even the immortal world has rules, Jacob. It would fall into chaos otherwise."

_Sure, sure… _"So what is this crime?" Jacob asks.

Carlisle flattens his lips into a thin white line, hesitating for another second, and then says dully, "That we have created an immortal child."

To his credit, it does not take Jacob very long to put two and two together. Jumping to his feet, he strides quickly across the floor to stand right in front of Carlisle, the trembling in his hands moving upward, causing his thickly muscled arms to quiver convulsively at his sides. "So you're telling me," he mutters, his voice shaking with fury, "that those leeches are coming here for _Renesmee?"_

"The plague of the immortal children left deep wounds on our society – wounds that have never fully healed," my father responds, meeting Jacob's furious glare impassively. "Any action on the Volturi's part must be swift and decisive. They will show no mercy."

A shiver travels down the length of Jacob's spine. His hands are shaking so violently that his fingers blur, and Emmett tenses at the edge of my vision, preparing to defend Carlisle from a transforming wolf.

Jacob fights to regain control by letting loose a torrent of curses within his mind, gritting his teeth so tightly that they grind against one another with a noise like fragments of shale breaking away from a wall of rock. _Son of a – hold it together, Jake – _The trembling slows, but does not cease. Opening his eyes, which had been screwed shut in concentration, Jacob growls, "I gotta let Sam know. We need to get ready. They aren't getting anywhere _near_ Nessie – not without a fight."

Emmett glances in my direction, a faint smirk on his face. _Told you so,_ he thinks smugly.

Jacob's thoughts are spinning frantically, his human mind struggling to contemplate several things at once. He begins to storm towards the front door, mumbling to himself, "There's no way I'm leaving Nessie. Just gotta tell Seth or Leah what's going on and –" He skids to a halt just inside the doorway and punches a fist into the wood frame. _"Dammit!"_ he snarls. The wood splits from the force of the blow with a sharp crack.

My head snaps up. Carlisle steps forward, asking calmly, "What is it, Jacob?"

"Everyone is still back at La Push," he answers, whirling around. Though he is making every effort to hide it, I can see the helplessness lurking beneath the blazing anger in his dark eyes. He needs to do _something_ – anything that may alleviate that feeling, for it seems to him as though it is tearing a ragged, burning gash through his heart.

I can sympathize…more than he will ever know.

Suddenly, he and I come upon the same solution. My eyes flash to his just as the question forms in his head, and I force my frozen features to move, looking over at my parents. "Esme, would you mind if Jacob phases inside the house?" My voice is dull, emotionless. "That way, he can communicate with Sam."

"Of course," she replies in the same empty tone.

Jacob heads to the room under the stairs, pulling off his shirt, and seconds later the air inside the house seems to crackle with energy, the floorboards vibrating as his body shifts into wolf form.

As soon as the transformation is complete, he trots back into the living room, already initiating a conversation with his pack to get a hold of Sam. Rosalie curls her upper lip as the russet-colored wolf brushes past her, but otherwise ignores his presence entirely. She makes her way over to Emmett, reaching for his hand, and then the two of them become utterly still, lost in their own agonized thoughts. Carlisle and Esme are the same.

While Renesmee continues to dream peacefully, I gently crawl around Bella's prone body and kneel in front of her. Though I have memorized every curve, each swell and dip, I need to see her face. It seems foolish to me now that I had avoided looking into her eyes earlier. It does not matter that I cannot give her reassurance – tell her that everything will be all right, that we will live through this. What_ does_ matter is using every opportunity that presents itself to tell her, to show her that she is and always will be my life – the one who resurrected what shreds of humanity remained buried within my cold, dead heart and helped me to believe that there is hope for a monster like me to be truly loved.

As if she understands – needs the same thing – Bella raises her head, settling onto her knees while resting one arm lightly on Renesmee. Locking her eyes with mine, I can read the mirror of my emotions in her brilliant scarlet irises. We are both aware beyond a shadow of a doubt that neither of us can survive without the other. We are halves of a whole – fused into one through body, mind and soul – and the proof of our union is a living, breathing miracle, sleeping beneath our hands.

In the early hours before dawn, Jacob collapses into an exhausted sleep – a snoring mass of red-brown fur curled in a corner of the room – though his mind is still a twisted mass of anxiety. Renesmee slumbers on, free of cares. Carlisle and Esme cling to one another – motionless statues carved from grief and dismay. Emmett, in spite of the worry he has for our family, is thinking about the coming battle, wondering how many of our friends will actually offer their aid. Rose grips her husband's large hand tightly, half of her face covered by a cascade of blonde locks as she laments the circumstances that brought us to this moment.

Alice and Jasper have yet to return.

While I am conscious of all these aspects as they continue to shape this darkest of nights, I do not allow any of them to divert my focus from the only thing that is indisputably relevant in my existence.

Bella stares back at me with an anguished fervor that matches my own, and I lose myself in the depths of her wide, beautiful eyes as the stars wheel in their courses across the black velvet sky and the peach-and-rose glow of the sunrise paints the horizon with yellow-gold light.

And one phrase – one promise – keeps repeating inside my hollow chest like a heartbeat as I gaze, unblinking, at the face of my angel.

_I will not lose you again._

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**Author's Note:** The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 542-553.

It wasn't_ too_ agonizing, I hope. I just tried to put myself in that position – knowing that the world has just crumbled around me and my entire family is about to be destroyed – and this is the result. The first time I read this chapter, and the next one, I felt like I'd been punched in the gut; all the air was sucked out of my lungs. I tried to translate that feeling into the story.

Remember, it gets better. I promise! And thank you for reviewing!


	10. Defection

**Chapter Note:** Consider this chapter as a Valentine gift from me to you. I was bound and determined to finish this one as soon as possible so that it flowed with the previous chapter. It is also filled to the brim with angst – but really, could it be any other way?

So, if you don't have a sweetie to celebrate the holiday with, spend it here with Edward! In my opinion, it is an ideal scenario.

Enjoy!

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Sunlight casts a sheen of glittering gold across Bella's face as morning arrives, and I glimpse my own reflection in her grief-stricken eyes, rainbow-tinged sparkles illuminating my pale skin.

I am at a loss as to what we should tell Renesmee when she awakens. We cannot lie; she will see through it immediately with her uncanny perception, and I know that I am unable to summon the willpower to pretend that our world did not crumble to ash last night. I wish that I had something to offer her – some answer or placation that will ease her young, fragile heart after she sees our dead expressions.

On the heels of that thought is another, relating to the answers we are hoping to find, and whom was sent to find them.

It takes a few seconds for my body to remember how to move. My face feels as though it is carved from ice, and I concentrate on making the muscles shift just a little. My eyebrows twitch, and then the line of motion travels along my nerve endings to my mouth, forcing my lips to reshape and form a name.

"Alice."

Like a catalyst, my voice stirs faint beginnings of life, of movement, into the tense, freezing atmosphere. Bella lowers her shimmering lavender eyelids in a slow blink. Emmett turns his gaze toward the windows. Carlisle raises his head, a flicker of surprise crossing his sorrowful expression. Esme readjusts her footing – a old, old habit – her eyes on her husband. And Rosalie opens her mouth to speak, remarking in a quiet, startled tone, "She's been gone a long time."

Emmett slips his hand from hers, his attention still fixed on the tree line visible outside. "Where could she be?" he questions, and steps toward the door.

Darting forward, Esme gently places her hand on his arm, cautioning, "We don't want to disturb…"

"She's never taken so long before." The anesthetic of despair has begun to wear off, allowing my head to clear, and I review my sister's last actions with new eyes. She was keeping something from me – that much was obvious – but I had noticed earlier that her vision of the Volturi's arrival held more power over her awareness than any of the others had in the past. And she was visibly distracted, saying that there was _so much,_ right before she and Jasper left.

The sharp sting of fresh panic injects an ice-cold acid into my veins, surging like adrenaline through my body. Future events have been lost to her visions before; even Alice herself is not entirely certain how her gift works. Only one person on earth understands the complex patterns of her mind better than I.

With a concerted effort, I tear my eyes away from Bella and look up at my father. "Carlisle, you don't think – something preemptive?" My voice is strained with worry, my frozen features melting and remolding into an expression of dread. "Would Alice have had time to see if they sent someone for her?"

Carlisle's golden eyes flare open, widening with fear. _Oh no – Alice!_

Emmett curses in a thunderous snarl that awakens Jacob. The big red-brown wolf staggers to his feet, teeth bared, a low growl rumbling in his throat. _What is it?_ The members of his pack, who have kept watch around the perimeter of the house during the night, as per his orders, echo his growl.

I am already in a blur of motion – streaking towards the front door, Carlisle following closely, and the others not far behind him. I hear Bella shriek to Jacob, "Stay with Renesmee!"

Opening my mind, I concentrate hard to block out my father's worry, Esme's terror, Emmett's determination and Rosalie's distress, trying to listen for Alice, Jasper, or any sort of assailants that might be threatening them.

As we run, I allow more of my senses to assume control, searching the breeze for traces of Alice's light fragrance mingled with Jasper's robust aroma. My nostrils widen when I detect their trail, and I adjust my course through the forest effortlessly as their path winds toward the east.

Because I am so absorbed by the smells filling the air around me, I immediately notice the scent of rain-soaked freesia as it blooms with striking prominence just behind my father and I. But I push aside all thoughts of Bella for the moment. We have to find Alice and Jasper. The nightmarish image of my sister in Aro's greedy clutches compels me to increase my pace, but I hold back just enough so the others are able to follow.

The trail shifts north after our group leaps across the river, and Carlisle looks sidelong at me, asking, "Would they have been able to surprise her?"

"I don't see how," I reply, my gaze fixed on the path ahead. A cold, foreboding weight is pressing down on my chest, growing heavier with each stride, and I admit quietly, "But Aro knows her better than anyone else. Better than I do." Which scares me for reasons that I have never disclosed to anyone – not Bella, nor Alice herself.

"Is this a trap?" Emmett speaks up, the direction of his voice indicating that he is shadowing my footsteps about a dozen paces back. His thoughts are intent as he scans our surroundings for any possible signs of attack – ever the protector.

"Maybe," I concede. Logically, it is a risk for all of us to be out here, chasing down Alice and Jasper – a perfect opportunity for the Volturi to arrange an ambush. However, that will not stop my family from crashing headlong through the tangled underbrush as we continue to track our missing members' route. If this is a trap, then at least we will be caught together and have a better chance of survival.

The familiar scent alters course once again, veering to the west. Confusion washes through me. "There's no scent but Alice and Jasper," I remark to no one in particular. The idea of a trap becomes less and less likely in my mind, but I am puzzled by the seemingly aimless wandering of the trail as the steady rush of the river burbles in front of us. "Where were they going?"

Hurdling across the river for a second time, my mother suddenly calls out to me mentally, her thoughts distracted. _Edward, wait – there's something over here, to the southeast. _I dismiss her words with a quick shake of my head. It is most likely an older path made by Alice, and not relevant at this point.

When I do not pause or acknowledge her silent statement, Esme calls out, "Did you catch that scent?"

"Keep to the main trail –" I tell her brusquely, the cluster of ancient pines looming ahead stirring a memory in my brain "– we're almost to the Quileute border." Unconsciously, I shift my footing to the right, placing myself directly in front of Bella, who is only two steps behind, judging by the whisper-soft rhythm of her feet on the damp ground. "Stay together. See if they turned north or south," I instruct, beginning to catch the pungent odor of the wolves as it is carried by an western wind.

Carlisle and I slow from our mad dash, recognizing that we are less than a hundred yards from the boundary line, and I turn my head from side to side, testing the air with my nose. Surely the trail should have switched to another direction by now, unless… _Alice, where are you going? _

A trio of minds brushes the edges of my perception and the wolf smell intensifies, emanating from the shade of the massive silver pines. One line of thought stands out from the other two: it is calm, decisive.

I would recognize that mind anywhere; I have heard it many times in the last seven months.

My head snaps up, the muscles in my body tensing, and I come to an abrupt halt. The others stop as well, paying attention to my lead. Carlisle stands at my side, and Bella is just behind my right shoulder.

"Sam?" I say in a low, rigid tone. "What is this?"

Sam Uley, the first Quileute male in four generations to transform into a wolf and Jacob's equal in the pack hierarchy, strides briskly out of the cluster of trees, his black eyes locked on Carlisle. Two members of his pack accompany him, one on each side. The bushy tail of the wolf on Sam's left twitches in agitation, the charcoal gray fur on the back of his neck raised as he glares at our family. The wolf on the right appears more at ease than his brother; the speckled gray-brown pattern of his coat ripples along the thick muscles on his back and shoulders, his eyes sweeping the area with keen awareness.

While he marches toward us, a dizzying swirl of recollections permeate Sam's thoughts – dizzying, because of what I can now see firsthand through his eyes.

An image of Alice swims into view, Jasper standing stock-still beside her as she stares up at Sam, her honey-gold eyes penetrating and grim and barely concealing a secret heartache. Then the two of them are racing through the purple-blue forest, flanked by Sam, heading with purpose toward the sound of crashing waves and the smell of saltwater. He watches them – a pair of pale white ghosts – dive into the black ocean and vanish beneath the swell of the tide.

Gone. They are gone.

They left. Both of them. Alice… Jasper…

_Alice…_

I cannot summon the will to move, to blink, to breathe – I am utterly frozen, lost in a tumult of contradicting feelings and memories without any hope of surfacing.

Carlisle's jaw locks as he peers at me from the corner of his eye. _Edward. _I do not even recognize my own face as I read his thoughts; it is desolate, colorless, and empty. The face of a corpse. _Son, _he call again, _what is it?_

My right cheek burns under the force of the gaze fixed on me from a pair of wide scarlet eyes. I almost reach for her – almost – but the strength to budge my petrified muscles even the tiniest bit eludes me.

Sam has finally crossed the space separating our parties. Coming to a halt in front of Carlisle, he reports grimly, "Right after midnight, Alice and Jasper came to this place and asked permission to cross our land to the ocean."

Surprise rouses a brief cacophony of thought in the minds of my family – aside from the only one I cannot hear, of course – but I pay them no heed. The earlier images I had received from Sam's mind reemerge with greater clarity as he speaks, and I examine every detail carefully, searching for any possible reason as to why my sister would leave.

"I granted them that and escorted them to the coast myself," Sam goes on. "They went immediately into the water and did not return. As we journeyed, Alice told me it was of the utmost importance that I say nothing to Jacob about seeing her until I spoke to you. I was to wait here for you to come looking for her and then give you this note." He holds up a folded piece of paper, the edges torn on one side, with black text printed on the back. "She told me to obey her as if all our lives depended on it," he concludes, and Alice coalesces within his thoughts, like she is standing before us right now. Her tiny hands are balled into fists, her pixie-like features steely with resolve, and the undiluted anguish in her topaz eyes pierces me like a blade.

Sam hands the note to Carlisle, and the text by his thumb reads, _"The Merchant of Venice"._ I also pick up faint traces of Bella's sweet aroma on the paper, so it must have been torn from one of her books. But it makes no sense; why would Alice write a note using a torn page from my wife's volume of Shakespeare? Though I must confess that very little is making sense to me at this point.

Unfolding the note, my father reads swiftly – and his expression contorts with grief. The words fill his head as well as mine, and numbness floods my being once again. Memories of my beloved sister, my best friend and confidant for nearly fifty years, dance inside my pupils, taunting me with the unanswered question: _Why? Why, Alice?_

"Alice has decided to leave us," Carlisle whispers, pained.

"What?" Rosalie cries. Emmett cusses internally to combat the brutal surge of shock, and Esme gasps, covering her mouth with a hand. And Bella…she remains an ice-cold statue. I do not even think that she is breathing – immobile with disbelief and sorrow.

Carlisle flips the paper around and holds it up for everyone to read for themselves.

_Don't look for us. There isn't time to waste._

_Remember: Tanya, Siobhan, Amun, Alistair, all the nomads you can find. We'll seek out Peter and Charlotte on our way. We're so sorry that we have to leave you this way, with no goodbyes or explanations. It's the only way for us._

_We love you._

Esme stifles a sob, closing her eyes tightly, and Rose wraps an arm around her trembling shoulders, her own expression twisted by sadness. Emmett is in a state of disbelief, wondering what Alice had seen that would have forced her and Jasper to leave us and why I had not mentioned the same danger. Bella has yet to draw a breath. Carlisle slowly turns the paper back around, and Sam is able to see the written words for the first time, since he did not want to read a message clearly not meant for him.

Pondering Alice's farewell, the Quileute leader muses to himself, _Are things so dangerous that Alice and Jasper would leave their family in danger, with nothing more than a note to explain their actions?_

I make myself focus on his stern face, meeting his black-brown gaze. "Yes, things are that dangerous," I answer his unspoken thought, a toneless inflection in my low voice.

"Enough that you would abandon your family?" Sam retorts, frowning in disapproval. _It is a cowardly act of betrayal, _he censures within his thoughts. _I should never have listened to her._

"We don't know what she saw." Alice could have branched out into many possible futures after she and Jasper left the house. Any one of them might have shown her that they had to leave to either avoid or initiate an outcome. If I can just hold onto that rationale, that my sister is still working in the best interests of our family, then perhaps I will be able to find a sliver of hope to sustain me.

"Alice is neither unfeeling nor a coward," I tell Sam firmly. "She just has more information than we do."

His dark eyes narrow, and he condemns Alice in his mind, his inborn loyalty to family branding my sister the lowest form of traitor by running away in our time of need. He starts to reply, _"We_ would not –"

"You are bound differently than we are," I snap, the white-hot flame of rage searing my raw nerves and aching heart. _"We_ each still have our free will."

Sam raises his chin, his stare hardening into shards of polished onyx, and Alice reappears in his mind's eye, her words ringing with certainty. _"This fight will be different than any you have ever faced."_ The ache in my chest increases painfully as I listen to her voice through Sam's memory, but I push it aside. _"I will not mince words with you, Sam. All of you_ will_ die if you choose to stand with us. The future is still unclear in many aspects, but that fact remains. As much as I believe and am grateful that the wolves will help, I thought it fair to warn you. Do not take this decision lightly."_

He abruptly overrides her remembered statement, asserting to himself, _How can I even trust in her words? We are not slaves to the defense of our people and our home – we _choose_ to meet any foe that threatens all we live to protect. _He glares fiercely, as though daring me to contradict the thoughts that he knows I have already plucked from his mind.

"But you should heed the warning," I say in a quieter, yet still sharp, tone. "This is not something you want to involve yourselves in. You can still avoid what Alice saw." Though I am well aware that Jacob will never leave Renesmee, there is no reason for the entire Quileute pack to perish along with my family, crushed like an insect beneath the heel of the Volturi.

A grim smile spreads across Sam's face. _"We_ don't run away."

The dark gray wolf at his side lets out a snort, tossing his massive head. _Damn straight, _I pick up from his mind – Paul – I distinguish the name from the speckled wolf's thoughts. _We're not about to let a bunch of super-powered leeches or whatever the hell they are get near us without a fight. And if we die… well, at least we go down swingin'._

Oddly enough, Paul's mental flavor reminds me very strongly of Emmett: brash, fearless, and impulsive – not to mention the unswerving devotion that seems to be ingrained in every wolf's psyche.

_I cannot bear to have any more lives on my conscience. _Carlisle speaks up, advising, "Don't get your family slaughtered for pride." His ocher eyes are hauntingly empty, save for the grief he holds for his two absent children.

Shifting his gaze to my father, Sam's chiseled expression softens and he remarks, "As Edward pointed out, we don't have the same kind of freedom that you have. Renesmee is as much a part of our family now as she is yours." He pictures the little girl in his head – her glittering smile and angelic face – and then reflects on the way Jacob has changed since she came into his life, the utter peace that has replaced the bitterness in his demeanor. "Jacob cannot abandon her," he says solemnly, "and we cannot abandon him."

His attention drifts to the torn paper in Carlisle's hands, his mouth tightening into a thin line. _We understand what it means to remain loyal to one's family, even in the face of death. How anyone could leave behind those they claim to love at such a time as this is beyond me._ He regrets granting Alice and Jasper permission to cross their land, thinking that he somehow contributed to their treachery, albeit inadvertently.

My spunky, vivacious sister grins up at me from within my memory, her elfin features alight with genuine warmth and affection. I had never questioned Alice's love for our family – it has always been obvious, both in her thoughts and in her behavior. She was the one who prodded me daily, to my extreme annoyance, to find my soul mate in Bella. And she was the first to wholeheartedly embrace the girl I loved as a sister before they had ever really met. She must have a legitimate reason for disappearing this way. Alice would not be so self-seeking as to remove herself and Jasper from this fight once it became apparent to her that there is no chance of survival. Or…would she?

I cast that notion aside forcefully, willing my doubt to fade. I love Alice. I couldn't love her more if she was my flesh-and-blood sister. I will not dishonor her by questioning her commitment to our family.

I fix my eyes on Sam, and state with conviction, "You don't know her."

He pins me with a keen stare, asking bluntly, "Do you?"

The doubt returns, fortified by Sam's words, and writhes inside my stomach as though it is alive, causing me to feel nauseous – but not in the way that humans experience the sensation. This sickness is in my heart, tainting my last moments with Alice. I recall how she had told me that she was sorry, right before she and Jasper left. At first I had thought she was apologizing for lashing out, but…what if she was referring to something else? Had she been trying to apologize for _this,_ for what was happening now?

A hand gently touches my shoulder, pulling me from my agonizing ruminations. "We have much to do, son," Carlisle murmurs. "Whatever Alice's decision, we would be foolish not to follow her advice now. Let's go home and get to work."

I nod in agreement, turning from Sam to look at the rest of my family. Esme is sobbing – broken, tearless keening – and Rosalie has her arms around our mother's quivering frame, tenderly stroking her caramel-colored hair with her palm.

"Thank you, Sam." Carlisle extends a hand toward him, which Sam clasps at once.

"I'm sorry," he replies, and the feeling behind his offer is sincere. "We shouldn't have let her through."

My father shakes his head. "You did the right thing. Alice is free to do what she will." Both Sam and I notice the slight flinch when he says her name. "I wouldn't deny her that liberty," he concludes quietly.

Emmett calls my name mentally and I look over at him. He seems to cringe at the expression on my face, thinking of those barren seven months I had suffered through without Bella. _We can't give up, _he practically shouts in my skull. _We have to stick together, brother. Alice has her reasons; she gave us what we need to keep going with this plan. So let's_ do_ it!  
_

Snarling under his breath after I give him no response, Emmett proclaims aloud, _"I'm_ not going down without a fight. Alice told us what to do. Let's get it done."

Everyone bobs their heads in silent accord with Emmett's words. Everyone except Bella. Her facial expression is blank, much the same as all our faces, but her eyes have this lost little girl quality – as if a part of her is waiting to wake up from this nightmare.

Carlisle starts for home at a steady run and the rest of us follow suit. Esme sniffles very softly, her breath hitching in her throat, and Carlisle grasps her hand, their gaits perfectly matched as they race side by side in front. I stay beside Bella, wanting to be close to her but still trapped in a numb, emotionless void inside my own mind.

The well-known rush of the river draws near, and Esme raises her head, inhaling. "There was that other trail. It was fresh." She points to the right with her chin, glancing over a shoulder at me. _Perhaps we should take a look, Edward, _she suggests tentatively. _Maybe…maybe we'll find something else – something that will help to make sense of all this._

Ah, Esme. So caring, so kindhearted. So naïve.

"It has to be from earlier in the day," I tell her as gently as I am able, given the circumstances. "It was just Alice, without Jasper." That was easy enough to discern even from the brief whiff I detected on the breeze.

Her lovely face crumples, and she nods reluctantly. _You're right…I know. But I hoped –_

Hope. Did such a thing exist anymore in this new, desolate world in which we now found ourselves?

Bella's footsteps slow, and she begins to move to the right, the vacant mask on her face cracking a bit to show a mixture of curiosity and resolve in her vivid eyes.

"Bella?" I call her name in a lifeless voice.

She stops running, and measures my expression as she gestures in the direction of the older path tinged with Alice's delicate hyacinth-vanilla scent. "I want to follow the trail," she declares. The others pause when they hear her speak and swiftly turn around, watching us from several yards ahead.

"It probably just leads back to the house," I comment dully. Like Esme, my Bella can be so unbelievably naïve. Sometimes it makes me wish that I had that kind of innocence, that kind of faith in the people who affect my life.

"Then I'll meet you there." She turns, her dark hair swirling like a cloud around her shoulders, and takes a few steps in her intended direction. Away from me.

My heart immediately shrieks in denial, desperate to remain as close to her as possible. "I'll come with you," I volunteer at once, and breathe a sigh of relief when she halts and spins back around to look at me. "We'll meet you at home, Carlisle." I do not break away from her gaze as I address my father.

_Very well. _He gives me a nod, and then the four of them vanish into the trees.

Bella arches her eyebrows ever so slightly, questioning me without speaking aloud. Moving towards her, I explain in a soft, muted tone, "I couldn't let you walk away from me." My brows pull together as I wince in response to a ghostly stab of pain, remembering the time when_ I_ had walked away from _her_ – her small arms wrapped tightly around her body, so sad and forlorn, standing motionless in the green embrace of the forest…

"It hurt just to imagine it," I murmur, overcoming the pain by filling my lungs with a deep breath of air saturated in her luxurious fragrance.

Her eyes are red fire; they warm and comfort my battered spirit while burning away the cocoon of numbness that shrouds my mind. Then she holds out her hand, palm up, offering to stay beside me for however long we have left. I latch onto her grasp, weaving her slender fingers through mine, and suggest, "Let's hurry. Renesmee will be awake."

She inclines her head, and together we fly across the forest floor, tracking Alice's scent as it winds through the trees and feathery ferns. Soon, I can identify traces of familiar smells on the chill wind as it brushes against my face – smells that equal _'home'_ in the core of my being. In a roundabout fashion, the trail is leading us back to the cottage. It fits, I suppose, as the note was written on a page ripped from one of Bella's books, but something is still…_off_ about this whole situation. I cannot quite put my finger on it, and it is driving me insane.

I try to analyze it out loud, wondering if the missing piece will click into place when we reach the cottage. "She left Jasper to wait for her and came here?" I glance sideways at Bella. She shrugs a little, seemingly as baffled as I am…yet there is a strange reflection in the depths of her eyes – a hint of unease that she has almost successfully kept hidden from me.

It grows stronger as we head up the stone pathway, and then suddenly Bella skids to a halt less than a foot from the door. Sliding her hand from mine, she requests in a preoccupied manner, "Give me just a minute."

My forehead wrinkles in confusion. "Bella?"

Whatever is troubling her, she ignores it for a brief moment to give me a pleading glance. "Please?" She reaches for the brass knob, turning it quickly, but does not open the door. Her wide eyes are fixed on me as she lingers next to the doorframe – and she must find acquiescence in my stare, for she then commands, "Thirty seconds." And then she is gone, the door clicking shut softly in her wake.

Sighing heavily, I start to count, listening to every minute sound coming from within the cottage.

_One, two, three, four…_

The smooth, gliding noise of stamped leather against wood.

…_five, six, seven, eight, nine…_

The low rustle of pages being turned rapidly.

…_ten, eleven, twelve…_

I can stand it no longer. At thirteen seconds, I slip through the doorway, only to find Bella standing in front of the fireplace, a smoldering leather-bound book lying atop the pile of red-hot coals.

"What's going on, Bella?" I inquire warily.

She does not look away from the bright blue-green tinted flames as they eagerly consume the worn hardback. "She was here," she murmurs quietly. "She ripped a page out of my book to write her note on."

I had known that, but still I ask her, "Why?"

"I don't know why." The flickering light dances across the sinuous planes of her face. In profile, her expression is enigmatic, and her thoughts are completely obscured, as always.

I sidle closer, my eyes drifting to the smoking scrap of leather in the fire. The gold embossed lettering of the book's title is nearly burned away; the only decipherable word on the cover is 'Venice'.

Bewildered, I lift my gaze from the hearth to Bella, resuming my rapt study of her lovely features in an attempt to uncover what is going on inside that mysterious, convoluted mind of hers. "Why are you burning it?" I say, nonplussed.

Her exquisite eyes darken with anguish, her unreadable face crinkling into a deep frown bathed in frustration and pain. "I– I–" She exhales sharply. A lock of silky chocolate brown hair tumbles over one shoulder, partially veiling her expression from my sight. The fingers of my right hand twitch, longing to brush her hair aside and caress the satiny curve of her cheek. "It seemed appropriate," she finishes in a low mumble.

Unable and unwilling to repress the desire, I raise my hand and gently tuck the wayward tresses behind her ear, my fingertips lingering with delight on her skin. The profound sadness blanketing the lines of her face burns within my chest like an acid, wounding me far more than my own grief. "We don't know what she's doing," I murmur quietly in a weak effort to console her.

Bella only stares into the undulating flames, watching the last bits of charred paper disintegrate into a swirl of yellow-orange embers. Seconds pass, and I struggle to quell my impatience, waiting for her to share her thoughts.

Just when I am about to open my mouth and ask the usual question, she begins to whisper, her voice somber and husky, "When we were on the plane to Italy, on our way to rescue you…" She swallows once. "…she lied to Jasper so that he wouldn't come after us. She knew that if he faced the Volturi, he would die. She was willing to die herself rather than put him in danger. Willing for me to die, too." Her breath catches in her throat, and her eyelashes tickle the apples of her cheeks as she briefly closes her eyes. "Willing for you to die."

Part of me wants to defend my sister – to tell Bella that Alice would never intentionally put us in harm's way if it would spare Jasper and herself – but I stay mute, looking from Bella's face to the fire, the light almost hypnotizing as it creates ever-changing shadows within the hearth.

"She has her priorities," Bella whispers, so low that the words seems to disappear into the wisps of pale smoke rising up through the chimney.

The memory that I had witnessed from Sam's mind of two lithe white figures plunging into the roiling ocean replays before my eyes while the words of Alice's written farewell spin webs of resentment and distrust inside my head. _'Don't look for us… We're so sorry that we have to leave you this way… It's the only way for us…'_

"I don't believe it," I growl fiercely, summoning the image of the smiling, impish sister that I have come to depend on to the forefront of my thoughts. Arguing with my own inner doubts as well as conversing with Bella, I speculate out loud, "Maybe it was just Jasper in danger. Her plan would work for the rest of us, but he'd be lost if he stayed. Maybe…"

Bella turns slowly from the fireplace, meeting my gaze for the first time since I entered the cottage. Her crimson irises glow with love, but are also soft with compassion as she replies carefully, "She could have told us that. Sent him away."

"But would Jasper have gone?" I am determined to find some loose thread that would help to untangle the knot of misgivings and feeble hopes surrounding the impossible situation in which we find ourselves. "Maybe she's lying to him again," I suggest, my tone sounding half-hearted even to my own ears.

"Maybe," Bella agrees – except her gaze wavers uncertainly as she speaks. Then, she tilts her chin up and announces, "We should go home. There's no time."

Obedient to her wishes, I take her hand in mine and together we run from the cottage and back into the deep green canopy of the forest.

The journey is very brief, and once we reach the vicinity of the house, my head is instantly cluttered with half-finished thoughts and private musings generated by the six alert minds inside.

Bella and I slip through the front door. Carlisle, Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett are all gathered loosely around the coffee table, whereupon a large, detailed globe is still spinning wildly, as if someone had just turned it. Jacob – human again – is sitting cross-legged in a corner of the room with Renesmee in his lap. She is wide-awake, as I expected, and in her thoughts and round dark eyes I detect her newfound knowledge of the current situation.

_We've been waiting for you, _Carlisle mentions, but there is no admonishment in his mental tone. _Did you find anything? _I shake my head infinitesimally. He nods very slowly, suspecting as much. Then his mind switches gears, returning to the task at hand as he informs me, _Everything has been prepared while the two of you were gone. We'll be leaving shortly. _He swiftly lays out the groundwork for their plan – and I immediately bristle when he discloses what assignment Bella and I have been given.

My grip on Bella's hand tenses involuntarily, and she looks away from the rotating globe to study my face curiously, her gaze full of questions that she will most likely never voice. I pause for a half second to contain my flash-burn temper and then speak aloud for her benefit, "We're to stay here?" The words grate against my tongue like shards of glass.

My father raises a wheat-colored eyebrow ever so slightly in response to my sour tone. _This is not a punishment, Edward._ Now there is definite reproach in his thoughts. _Surely you can see the wisdom of this decision. _His golden eyes flit over to Bella as he replies placidly, "Alice said that we would have to show people Renesmee, and we would have to be careful about it. We'll send whomever we can find back here to you –" Seeing nothing but compliance and underlying grief in his daughter-in-law's crimson stare, Carlisle turns back to me. "Edward, you'll be the best at fielding that particular minefield."

Apparently, fate persists in contriving various means of testing my so-called limitless patience. I had been looking forward to the trip to South America – now rendered useless – because it would be an opportunity to channel my bottled-up anxiety in a productive direction. I have been shielding Bella from all of my negative emotions for so long that Jasper had recently pulled me aside and told me of his concern. According to him, my feelings needed to find an outlet soon, or else everything would just explode. And all those fears that I have repressed will become known to the one person I swore that I would never hurt again.

I had at the time practically begged my brother to offer me a solution. "You should talk to Bella," was what he said, completely serious. "You don't have to protect her from yourself anymore, Edward. She would want to know. It's just the same as when you told her to not be afraid to let you know how she's feeling. Besides …" He paused, sampling my emotional state once again with his talent, and then grimaced. "I think she's probably the only one who can help you."

Jasper. He is gone now – just like Alice…

Gritting my teeth, I cement my awareness firmly in the present moment and stare hard at Carlisle's serene expression. He is waiting for me to offer a semblance of agreement with this strategy. I give him a curt nod of my head. I really cannot argue with his logic, as much as I would like to, and I have no other alternative to recommend. But the rebellious youth that still lingers in the human side of my being is unable to resist speaking a provocation. "There's still a lot of ground to cover."

"We're splitting up." Emmett decides to play interference – announcing his own role in the grand scheme while also dispelling some of the tension between our father and me. "Rose and I are hunting for nomads." _If it's any consolation, _he sends casually, _we all figured that you'd want to stay here with Bella and Nessie. It's safer. …Sort of. _He shrugs in response to my withering glance, and crosses his arms over his chest.

"You'll have your hands full here," Carlisle remarks quietly while measuring my reaction, noting the taut skin around my eyes. "Tanya's family will be here in the morning, and they have no idea why." He begins to tick off a list of objectives. "First, you have to persuade them not to react the way Irina did. Second, you've got to find out what Alice meant about Eleazar. Then, after all that, will they stay to witness for us?"

Peering deep into my rigid gaze, he adds internally, _You are incredibly gifted in the art of persuasion, Edward – but that is not the only reason why we are entrusting you with this responsibility. Your first obligation is to your wife and daughter, and they need you just as much as you need them. _He goes on, almost wearily, "It will start again as the others come – if we can persuade anyone to come in the first place." Exhaling a heavy sigh, my father comments in a low voice, "Your job may well be the hardest." _And I have the utmost faith in you, son. You will do whatever you can in order to succeed. _

He and I stare at one another in silence for a moment, both of us recognizing what he has left unsaid – that even though I will make every effort to reason with Tanya and the others, it is no guarantee that they will support us. What had happened with the wolves and the newborn army this past June is proof enough of that.

_It's time. _Carlisle begins to step around the table, promising, "We'll be back to help as soon as we can." He pauses in front of me and lays a hand on my shoulder for a brief second. _Take care of your family, _he thinks, his piercing tawny eyes filled with warmth and fatherly affection, and it is at that moment my hostility towards this plan completely dissipates. I soften my gaze, and a hint of a smile twitches in my father's cheek before he lowers his hand and turns to Bella. _Be well, my dear. _He bends down and lightly kisses her forehead in benediction.

Esme throws her slim arms around me, squeezing tightly as she offers a farewell. _I love you, Edward. I know you're hurting about Alice and why she left – _my muscles tense, a whisper of hollow emptiness teasing the edges of my perception – _but we have to trust that she's doing the right thing. She always has._

Releasing me, my mother envelops Bella in a tender hug, holding on for a few seconds longer than usual.

The dull thud of a fist punching into my shoulder breaks me from my observation. _Try to have fun without me, _Emmett jokes, a lopsided smirk on his face. _Though from what I hear, you two are having plenty of fun on your own. _He dodges my attempt to shove him backwards and thumps Bella on the arm as well.

Rosalie graces us both with a small, forced smile, not bothering to give any sort of parting words – until she turns and blows a kiss to Renesmee. _Watch out for her, Edward, or the Volturi will be the least of your worries._

I have learned over the years to take Rose's threats at face value, though she has no reason to concern herself with this particular matter. We may not have always agreed on the specifics of tending Renesmee, especially when she was still inside her mother, but providing for my daughter's wellbeing is second nature to me now.

_And keep an eye on the dog, _she includes while giving Jacob a disgusted grimace. _I swear…if someone tells me that I smell like one of those annoying over-sized vermin, I am going to –_

"Good luck," I say a bit loudly, drowning out Rose's usual self-centered drabble, and look at each of their faces before meeting my father's level stare.

"And to you," he returns. "We'll all need it." Gesturing to Esme, the two of them exit the house first at a swift sprint, wheeling towards the southeast. Emmett and Rosalie follow them out the door, and then head north, their thoughts fading along with their hushed footfalls.

Bella looks out the open front door for several seconds, appearing to be both defeated and thoughtful at the same time. I walk a little further into the spacious room, and as soon as the distance between us is lengthened, Bella closes the door and glides over to my side, her eyes on Renesmee.

The little girl's mind is in a quandary. Because she is dwelling on so many things at once, her thoughts overlap and contradict one another – so much so that I have trouble distinguishing what she is thinking right at the moment.

She twists around on Jacob's lap, having decided which question to ask, and touches his red-brown cheek. Replaying a portion of Carlisle's words, Renesmee focuses on his talk of 'others', wanting to know if these friends are going to come and help.

Jacob lifts one shoulder in a slight shrug, his black eyes never leaving her face. "I don't know if Carlisle's friends will come. I hope so." His brows pull together as he fights to hold back a wince. "Sounds like we're a little outnumbered right now," he murmurs very softly, his arms tightening protectively around her tiny form.

Bella's intent gaze narrows in response to his words. I can understand her frustration; she probably did not want Renesmee to know about the destruction aimed at our family because of her existence. Regardless of what Irina thought she saw that day on the ridge, I will not let my daughter bear the guilt of bringing the Volturi to our doorstep.

But I know Jacob: he would have kept that harsh reality from her, and from what I can see in her mind, she does not yet comprehend her part in Aro's machinations.

An almost desperate desire to help fills Renesmee's head, causing her small heart to throb even faster, and she projects a plea to Jacob, her deep brown eyes imploring.

He immediately shakes his head in denial. "No, we can't help; we've got to stay here," he tells her gently. "People are coming to see _you,_ not the scenery."

She frowns, considering a new dilemma. Picturing his last farewell, when he went back to La Push, she wonders if he will have to leave again when our friends arrive.

_Never gonna happen,_ he vows even before her shared thought is finished. A twinge of unease awakens inside my chest as he says to Renesmee with certainty, "No, I don't have to go anywhere." Realization, of course, catches up with him an instant later, and he glances up at me, bewildered. "Do I?" he asks.

Hesitating, I briefly consider the possible ramifications of allowing Jacob to be seen with Renesmee. Some of our potential allies might deem our close association with werewolves as unsavory, and thus influence their decision to offer aid. Most of them will view Renesmee as a bane in any case; I simply do not want anyone to think less of her and what we are asking because of our friendship with the wolves.

I hesitate one second too long. Jacob's thoughts flux, signaling that the tight rein he keeps on his anger has grown slack. He stems off the rippling shiver that starts at the base of his spine and barks roughly, "Spit it out."

Breathing out very slowly, I then take in a lungful of freesia, wet dog, and cinnamon-jasmine scented air and explain, "The vampires who are coming to help us are not the same as we are. Tanya's family is the only one besides ours with a reverence for human life, and even they don't think much of werewolves."

_Amazing command of the obvious you have there,_ Jacob scoffs mentally.

I ignore this and go on. "I think it might be safer –"

He cuts me off, asserting, "I can take care of myself." _You know it, I know it, and_ I_ know that_ you_ know it. So why even bring it up?_

"Safer for Renesmee," I amend softly, watching his expressions, "if the choice to believe our story about her is not tainted by an association with werewolves." If I can just get him to see this situation from my perspective, maybe it will convince him to at least heed my advice instead of completely disregarding it.

"Some friends," he snorts. "They'd turn on you just because of who you hang out with now?" _I wouldn't want somebody like that backing me up – no matter how long you've known them._ He snorts again, curling his upper lip in derision.

It seems that I need to make my point clearer. Folding my arms across my chest, I tilt my head a bit to one side and adopt a contemplative stance. "I think they would mostly be tolerant under normal circumstances," I remark. Tanya and her family certainly had maintained a general aura of acceptance in regard to the wolves at the wedding, but to say that_ all_ of my father's old friends will behave in the same manner is a huge leap of faith. And we cannot afford to invest in blind faith.

"But you need to understand – accepting Nessie will not be a simple thing for any of them," I tell him earnestly, willing him to grasp the probable consequences of his involvement. "Why make it even the slightest bit harder?"

Jacob is silent for a minute, mulling things over in his head. While he thinks, Bella drifts over to the windows, staring out at the rainy woods. When she starts to wander towards the back of the room, Renesmee shifts in Jacob's arms to track her mother's movement with keen, unblinking eyes. I follow her progress as well, noticing that her steps are random, distracted. She must be trying to escape from agonizing over all the unknowns surrounding our lives by focusing on trivialities, like propelling her body into motion.

Then _why,_ a tiny portion of my brain wonders, does it feel like she is_ deliberately_ moving to another part of the house? Bella has never been very good at subterfuge, and I hoped that would not change after she became a vampire. Her pathetic, amusing attempts to lie are incredibly endearing to me.

_Oh. I get it. _Subdued, Jacob straightens up a little and asks, breaking me from my speculation, "The immortal children were really that bad?"

Pulling my attention from Bella, I reply in a bleak tone, "You can't imagine the depth of the scars they've left in the collective vampire psyche."

His expression contorts into one of forlorn anguish. So he does realize the impact his presence could have on our allies' opinion of Renesmee and our innocence regarding the Volturi's pronounced sentence for a crime we did not commit. "Edward…" He trails off, leaving his appeal unspoken. But I hear it nonetheless.

"I know, Jake." Behind the tormented gleam in his black-brown eyes, I see a dim shadow of myself. "I know how hard it is to be away from her." A memory stirs in the back of my mind, and I hear my own voice, rough with the same emotion that colors Jacob's thoughts. _"It's like you've taken half my self away with you."_

Faint tapping noises echo dully from the far side of the house, and my eyes flash to the back windows, searching for Bella. I spot her leaning against the wall near the dining room, most of her body hidden from view. She still seems anxious; the drumming sound must be her fingers on a computer desk.

The computer…

Is she looking for something? Is that why she burned the book – to keep me in the dark?

_Overreacting,_ a voice that sounds suspiciously like Alice whispers inside my head, and I have the sudden urge to look for her – peeking around the corner with that impish grin on her elfin face.

But she is not here.

Burying the image of my sister's bright smile and laughing gold eyes, I glance down again at Jacob. Less than a second has passed; he will not have noticed my internal conflict. "We'll play it by ear – see how they react to her," I say in a lighter tone. "Nessie is going to have to be incognito off and on in the next few weeks. She'll need to stay at the cottage until the right moment for us to introduce her. As long as you keep a safe distance from the main house…"

Jacob grabs at the concession I have posed immediately, which is what I had hoped. "I can do that," he declares, looking a bit relieved.

Renesmee squirms, impatient, in his arms, and presses her fingers to his neck. Bella's face, along with the memory of her walking away by the windows, fills her mind, accompanied by a strong sense of necessity. Jacob loosens his embrace in response and at once the little girl pulls herself upright and wanders off to find her mother.

"Company in the morning, huh?" Jacob comments, leaning his head back against the wall.

"Yes. The closest of our friends." Because it's Tanya, there is no reason for him to alienate himself from us just yet. "In this particular case, it's probably better if we get things out in the open as soon as possible. You can stay here." His eyes light up while the rest of his expression is kept carefully neutral. "Tanya knows about you," I tell him. "She's even met Seth."

"Right." He unfolds his long legs and stretches them out, crossing his ankles. From the casualness of the position, it seems that he has no intention of leaving any time soon.

The tapping rhythm has stopped. Renesmee must have succeeded in pulling Bella from her abstracted musings. With minimal effort, I pick up on my daughter's line of thought. A flickering train of images – the faces of our family and friends – race through her mind in swift repetition, flavored by a constant stream of worry.

Blinking once, I refocus on Jacob's slouching form while holding onto Renesmee's thought pattern, monitoring it with one part of my brain. He raises a black eyebrow at me in question. "You should tell Sam what's going on," I suggest quietly. "There might be strangers in the woods soon."

"Good point," he replies, and then his features and tone harden as he mutters sourly, "Though I owe him some silence after last night."

"Listening to Alice is usually the right thing." The habitual answer flows out of my mouth unconsciously, even though I am unsure whether or not I still believe in those words.

Jacob grounds his teeth, anger flaring in his mind, and he retorts mentally, _If you say so._

Suddenly, Alice's face appears – crystal-clear and incredibly vivid – broadcast from Renesmee. Her childlike longing and confusion burst strongly along the edges of her thoughts, and in her own way, she is asking where her aunt has gone.

"I don't know," Bella whispers, her voice husky with pain. Both Jacob and I become immobile and silent, listening. "But she's Alice. She's doing the right thing, like always."

Renesmee sighs, a tiny puff of air, and her longing to see Alice grows.

"I miss her, too." The words falter on her tongue, and then her breath hitches in her throat.

Alarmed, my head swings around to look towards the dining room just as Renesmee peers up to study her mother's face. The deep grief and anguish distorting Bella's exquisite features is enough to cause my heart to ache in sympathy while stirring my own feelings of sorrow and despair.

Our daughter's mind clouds with sadness as she watches Bella sob brokenly, her agonized eyes devoid of tears, and Renesmee tries to soothe her by stroking her mother's cool cheek with a tiny palm.

Jacob clambers to his feet, eyeing my tormented expression. _I'm gonna go talk to Sam now, _he mentions as he heads for the front door. _It's probably a good time anyway to work out a schedule for perimeter sweeps._ He puts a hand on the doorframe, holding my gaze meaningfully._ I think I'll do some of that for a couple hours. I won't be far._ And he crosses the threshold, starting to pull the door closed behind him.

"Thank you, Jacob," I mouth to him in fervent gratitude.

The ghost of his classic grin flits across his lips. _Don't mention it._

Then he leaves, giving me a few private moments with my family.

A new scent tickles my nose – salty, faintly sweet – and my eyes widen as I immediately recognize the source of the fragrance.

Soundlessly, I creep across the pale wooden floor and pause beside the corner wall, unnoticed by my wife and daughter. Renesmee's plump, flushed cheek glistens with a streak of wetness. She raises a hand to her own face in amazement, brushing the moisture on her skin, and holds her fingertip in front of her.

"Don't cry," Bella murmurs throatily, and she bends forward to kiss the tip of the little girl's button nose. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be fine." Sniffling, Renesmee nestles her wet cheek into the curve of Bella's neck, a few more tears escaping the corners of her dark eyes. Bella starts to rock back and forth gently, resting her head atop our daughter's bronze curls, and vows in a low, resolved tone, "I will find you a way through this."

In a hesitant motion, I step around the corner. Two pairs of wide eyes, scarlet and chocolate, flash sideways to observe my entrance. Renesmee's bottom lip starts to quiver as I draw near; she sees glimpses of the same anguish in my expression as she had in her mother's, and it hurts her.

"Shh…" I hush her tenderly, stroking my knuckles across her temple and cheek. "It will be all right." I meet Bella's eyes on the last word, and am instantly undone. In spite of all that has happened in the last eight hours – learning of our family's imminent fate and the inexplicable disappearance of Alice and Jasper – she is still able to look at me with profound passion, as if I am her mainstay amidst the destructive turmoil.

Closing my eyes to shield myself from the heat of her stare, I manage to hold the tattered remnants of my emotional control together – though I am well aware that it will not last long – and press my forehead against Bella's, inhaling deeply.

After a few minutes…or hours…I tell her very softly, "I heard you crying. Are you all right?" I open my eyes halfway, gazing at her from beneath my lashes.

Her eyelids flutter, and intense ruby-colored orbs set my nerve endings ablaze, sending tendrils of warmth into my icy, deadened spirit. I lift my hand to cradle her heart-shaped face, my thumb caressing the swell of her pale cheek. "I'm fine," Bella assures, her breath sending a waft of floral perfume across my lips. "What about you?" she asks, a little worried crease forming in the center of her brow. "Are you okay?"

My brother's advice haunts the fringe of my awareness. _"She would want to know."_

_Later,_ I argue, pushing the remembered conversation from my thoughts. But I cannot lie when confronted with her beautiful, concerned, and loving expression. So I admit quietly, lowering my eyes, "For the moment."

It is the truth; I am able to reinforce my damaged feelings and bolster my tenuous grip on sanity just by being close to Bella. Though I will soon no longer have the strength to endure the storm brewing inside of me – I have spent too much time holding it in, and I can sense the walls containing my volatile emotions beginning to strain under the intense pressure. The explosion that Jasper warned me about is coming, and there is nothing I can do to stop from unleashing it upon my Bella.

"_I think she's probably the only one who can help you,"_ the Jasper in my memory whispers in the back of my mind. Sighing, I realize that I have no other choice. I have to tell her. As my brother pointed out, she would want to know.

But not yet. I_ will_ control myself for as long as possible before exposing her to the brutal force churning within my core.

The fingertips of my free hand are starting to tremble, and I clench them into a fist, willing the involuntary movement to stop.

Perceptive as ever, Bella lays her small hand over mine, nuzzling into my palm, and my breath shudders in my chest. With her touch and her eyes, she consoles me – just as she did when she lay near death on the sofa in the next room, wilting like a frail blossom in the harsh grip of winter.

Eventually, the trembling in my fingers ceases, and as if that had been her goal all along, Bella drops her hand and steps away. She walks toward the windows to watch the rainwater create patterns on the glass, and angles her body so that Renesmee can watch, as well.

I follow in her wake, shuffling in close behind her. With Bella's back pressing into my chest, I wrap my arms around them both, and rest my chin on the top of her head. And I find myself wishing that the future would never come – that the three of us could stay here forever, untouched by the pitiless consequences of reality. But to dwell on such foolish fantasies is irresponsible and selfish.

Selfish… I have always indulged in that emotion whenever Bella is concerned. I would like to believe that I have not shared my fears with her because I am practicing altruism – but honestly, it is only another example of my self-centeredness.

I do not want to seem weak to her. I do want her opinion of me to change. She has always looked to me for protection, for strength, for the answers to all the impossible situations we have faced over the last few years, and I have always given her whatever she needs.

But I cannot give her any of those things now. All that I_ can_ offer her is myself, which she has confirmed on numerous occasions is more than she deserves.

Tilting my chin downward, I hide my face in Bella's hair, taking in her sweet scent, and a fissure ruptures in the prison confining my emotions. Desperation wells inside my throat, stifling the passage of air to my lungs.

I_ need_ her. I need _Bella_ – her skin on mine, the taste of her breath, her arms around me – or I will not survive another day. If eternity is now out of our reach, then all I want is to be with her and love her in the time we have left. And when the end comes, we will meet it together.

I comfort myself with that promise as the hours march inexorably on, leading us ever closer to the confrontation that will shape the course of our destiny.

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**Author's Note:** The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 554-571.

Okay, I think we've got most of the sad, heart-wrenching parts out of the way and will be moving on to more interesting scenes. Some of you have already told me how you're looking forward to reading the scene with Edward by the fireplace – what he was thinking about and so forth – and I tried to build towards that in this chapter. I think it will be really beautiful, and emotional, and sigh-worthy.

I'm also really looking forward to playing with the Denali coven in the next couple chapters, and the other new vampires that get introduced.

Please don't forget to review; I really appreciate and value your thoughts. Thank you!


	11. Irresistible

**Chapter Notes:** I love this chapter. I love the flow of it, the emotions in it, and how character relationships grow and are defined within it.

That being said, I will also say that this chapter is very 'meaty'; there is a lot of content and, yes, a little more angst. Sorry about that. I will completely understand if some of you have to read this chapter in two or three sittings – it has consumed most of my free time over the last two weeks – but I enjoyed every minute of it.

I hope all of you come to love it as much as I do.

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The mind is a cruel device – a sadistic tormentor that delights in dredging up painful memories and sickening imaginings designed to bring one's sanity to the breaking point.

All day, I have endured this torture. Though I hold my Bella and our daughter in my stone arms, they are not strong enough to protect them from what is to come. While I can employ every persuasive tool at my disposal and comb the thoughts of Tanya's family, I cannot force them to help us or even guarantee that their efforts will not be in vain.

For every hopeful notion, there is a counterpoint of despair. No matter how hard I try to ignore it, to shut it out, the analytical side of my brain balances faith against logic. And if the mind is my torturer, then logic is its weapon of choice.

Only Bella remains a constant focal point for my fractured reality. She has bound me to herself so completely that even when I went halfway around the globe to save her from myself, I could not sever the cords linking my existence to hers.

But there are other powers at work against us now; powers that may be able to succeed where I failed, and cast me down to a place where all bonds of love are burned away.

There is only one word to describe such a place. A place where Bella's heart is not tied to mine, where I cannot see her light or feel her warmth – a warmth that never had anything to do with her blood, but with the warmth of her beautiful soul…

Hell.

It takes every ounce of willpower I have left to suppress the violent tremor that explodes along my spine, sending my nerves into a frenzy. Afterward, I keep my nose buried in the cascade of deep brown locks twisted around Bella's face and shoulders. Her sweet scent is the antidote for my…fear.

At one time, I considered myself above such a petty_ human_ emotion as fear. But then, I had never really known what love was – or loyalty, or joy, or belonging, or so many other feelings that I had only seen brief glimpses of through someone else's mind but never truly experienced.

I was a fool to think that I was complete before I met Bella.

Some while later, I dimly notice that the pale gray light of an overcast morning has transitioned into the dusky purple hue of twilight. Bare tree branches reach towards the sky like black fingers, grasping in vain at the waning crescent moon that appears fleetingly behind the thick clouds. Bella exhales very softly, the shape of the moon reflected in her eyes, and Renesmee fidgets drowsily in her arms, a yawn stretching her tiny mouth. These small observations succeed in pulling my awareness out of the anguished, impenetrable shell encasing my mind, and I begin to distinguish other details.

The synchronous harmony of several heartbeats. A hushed collection of thoughts and conversation. The tell-tale odor of werewolves blended with the smell of food.

Leaving one hand on Bella's waist, I pivot on my right foot – and register a faint sense of surprise at the scene that greets me.

The house is occupied by a group of Quileute teens. Seth's is the first face I see; he is sprawled on the sofa directly in front of me, munching on a four-inch thick sandwich. He freezes in mid-chew when I make eye contact, and then swallows convulsively, his thoughts a bit nervous. "Hey, Edward." His lips twitch into a vague representation of a smile.

At the sound of his voice, the conversation taking place in the dining room cuts off, and Bella turns around as well, her surprise at finding company with us more apparent in her bewildered expression. "Seth?" she asks. "What are you doing here?"

Embry and Quil come out of the dining room as Seth replies, "We're on guard duty, more or less. Jake said it would be okay for the three of us to take a breather – get something eat, you know – while he and Leah patrol the east bank of the river." He studies our blank faces for a second, his brow furrowing in confusion. "He didn't tell you guys any of this?"

"He did mention talking to Sam and scheduling some perimeter sweeps," I answer, pinching the bridge of my nose with thumb and forefinger, displeased with my lack of attentiveness.

The three pack members exchange puzzled glances. "That was_ twelve_ hours ago," Quil remarks pointedly. _He seriously didn't know we were here? I thought he could hear what we're thinking._

"I can," I respond, and Quil blinks, stunned despite his foreknowledge of my talent. "But I must confess that I'm…somewhat unfocused as of late." Bella takes my hand in silent commiseration, and I hold on tightly, savoring the electrical pulses that her touch always elicits.

Seth nods sagely, his black-brown eyes radiating sympathy. "We totally understand, man." Then he adds internally, _For whatever it's worth…I am so sorry that it's going down like this._

His sincerity is profound. If ever there was a mortal that deserved the description of having 'a pure heart', it is Seth Clearwater.

"Jake should be back pretty soon," he goes on, gaze flickering to the darkness outside. "We'll be keeping an eye on things tonight – not that you really_ need_ us to, but you know how Jake is…" Seth rolls his eyes, though his thoughts are more amused than exasperated by Jacob's overprotective nature. "He told us that we'd have to clear out in the morning, though we're supposed to stay close and be invisible while your friends are here. So you'll have to put up with us for a few more hours," he finishes, grinning broadly.

Bella steps forward, a slight frown marring her features as she murmurs, "We aren't staying at the house tonight. I want to take Renesmee home, so she can sleep in her own bed." Her tone is quietly adamant, and judging by the stubborn set of her mouth, no amount of persuasion will change her mind.

I could not agree with her more. The sanctuary of our cottage will be a welcome change from the strained atmosphere permeating the house, and I am practically ravenous for a private, uninterrupted evening with my wife.

Bending over her slightly, I ask in a low voice, "Do you want to leave now?"

Bella nods, so I wrap an arm around her shoulders and begin to lead her towards the back door. Seth, a bit bemused but willing to concede to our wishes, calls out, "You know Jake's gonna be looking for you guys, right?" _He might have a heart attack if Nessie's not around when he gets back._

"He knows where to find us," I comment wryly. Pulling the door closed behind me, we cross the meadow at a slower pace – though not quite as slow as a human's – and head into the northern woods, the need for familiarity growing stronger with each passing moment.

My mind's aptitude for tormenting intensifies as well. And I begin to notice that my weakening self-control is affecting not only my emotions, but also every single facet of my being. The muscles in my body are tensed as though preparing for a hunt – or to do battle. My spine threatens to curve, urging me to lower myself into a crouch, and my head turns from side to side almost constantly, scanning the forest for a potential danger…potential prey. Every instinct I have as a predator is rousing to razor-sharp acuity – without my conscious knowledge or consent.

I pull Bella closer to my side while gritting my teeth in concentration, willing the monster into submission.

Just as he is properly cowed, a rustle in the bushes on the left causes me to dance sideways, snarling. Extending my arms defensively, I place myself between my family and the unknown threat, and the monster rejoices, more than ready for a show of violence.

The shape of an enormous wolf, however, wrenches my common sense out of the red haze of instinct and I relax my stance. "Jacob."

Russet fur gleaming with threads of silver in the moonlight, Jacob parts the bushes – dry leaves fluttering to the ground in his wake – and lets out a snort, his breath a cloud of steam in the chill night air. _Overreact much? _he complains, black eyes glittering with annoyance.

"I'm a bit on edge this evening, Jacob," I retort bitingly, my tone laced with sarcasm. "Surely you can understand why." I turn around as he rolls his eyes to address Bella. She has both arms wrapped in an iron cage around Renesmee, who mercifully is continuing to doze. Bella's ruby-colored eyes are wide, and I brush my fingertips across her cheek in apology. "I'm sorry if I startled you, love."

"It's okay," she mumbles in a small voice.

Simultaneously, Jacob thumps one large paw on the ground and rolls his head to the side, griping loudly with his thoughts. _She's fine. I'm the one you should be apologizing to – and not just for getting ready to rip my arms from their sockets. Why didn't you stay at the house? Decided to go for a midnight stroll?_

"We're taking Renesmee back to the cottage," I answer, encircling Bella's waist with my arm and starting to move forward. Jacob falls in step beside me, though he leaves a foot or so of space between my shoulder and his flank. A wise choice on his part.

He chuffs under his breath, and Bella looks up at me in curiosity when I mutter tersely, "Does it really matter at this point?"

"What did he say?" she asks, her gaze wavering between mine and the wolf, visible just beyond my left shoulder, his long face tilted towards us.

Sighing, I tell her in a flat voice, "He wants to know why we would even bother taking her home."

Bella angles her neck, looking past my face to meet Jacob's black eyes. The depth of sorrow covering her expression and the haunting shadows in her stare immediately strikes him, stilling the current of his thoughts. Very quietly, she explains, "Maybe it is stupid – but… I just wanted her to have something_ normal_ to wake up to. After all that she's been through – all that she's _going to_ go through – I want her to feel like she has a home." She shrugs a little, lowering her eyes to the slumbering child in her arms. "It's important that she remembers her home, that she could feel safe there."

I lean down and kiss the top of her head. She swallows hard, her full bottom lip quivering, and sucks in a deep breath. Jacob winds around behind us and trots over to Bella, letting out a low whine. _I'm sorry, Bells, _he thinks remorsefully. _I'm the one who's being stupid. All this adrenaline is killing off my brain cells or something. _I stifle a chuckle at that, hiding my smile in Bella's dark hair, but neither of them seem to notice. _Would you tell her that I'm sorry, Edward? _Jacob pleads. _And tell her that I'm stupid, too. _He whines again, ducking his head like a scolded puppy.

Before I can open my mouth to convey his unspoken words, Bella reaches out and touches Jacob's massive shoulder, stroking his thick fur with her palm. "I know, Jake," she assures gently. "Don't worry about it. Like Edward said, we're all a bit on edge lately."

"But we shouldn't let that turn us against each other." Frankly, it was all too easy for me to fall back into the routine of animosity when conversing with Jacob – and we have come so far from those days when either of us would have leapt at the opportunity to dispose of the other.

Peering over Bella's head at the red-brown wolf, I say with sincerity, "I'm sorry, Jacob. I had no excuse to behave so rudely towards a friend."

_Great. Now you're_ both_ making me feel guilty._ But he is relieved, and grateful, for my apology and Bella's reassurance. He redirects his thoughts a heartbeat later, informing me, _I'll circle the woods a few miles out around the cottage for the rest of the night. I don't think I could sleep even if I tried…and being a wolf makes me feel more ready for a fight._

I incline my head in agreement just as the trees thin ahead, signifying that we are a few hundred yards from the glade. Jacob remains beside a towering oak while Bella and I weave a path through the frost-laden meadow grass and approach the small stone cottage.

Once inside, I turn to Bella and murmur softly, "I'll start a fire. You put Renesmee to bed." Then I press my lips to our daughter's brow. "Dream sweet dreams," I whisper to her, pushing a stray curl from her forehead. Straightening, I meet Bella's gaze for half a second. Her vivid eyes are full of questions, her eyebrows drawn together in tense contemplation. I prepare to mentally brace myself for the onslaught – yet she surprises me by remaining silent, offering a faint smile before she glides down the hall to Renesmee's room.

In a handful of seconds after their departure, I have placed a stack of logs over the waning embers in the hearth and revived a crackling fire. Above the dim noise of snapping wood, I hear slight vibrations in the floor – a gentle, soothing rhythm – which implies that Bella is rocking from side to side, and Renesmee is not as sleepy as she would have us believe. More likely, the little girl is physically exhausted, but her emotions and imagination are running so rampant that her body is finding it difficult to welcome a much-needed rest.

A short piece of wood falls from the pile, leaving a trail of glowing sparks on the ground, and I push it back into the hearth. As my hand lowers, I realize that my fingers are shaking. Clenching them into a fist, I bury both hands in the pockets of my jacket, hunching over towards the flames. The dancing waves of yellow and red-orange lick across the charred surface of the wood, billows of smoke rising through the chimney amid swirling golden embers…and my mind resumes its assault.

Fire is the sole element capable of destroying a vampire. It is clean, efficient, and utterly lethal, leaving only a scattering of pale ashes where a once invulnerable immortal had been.

It is how the Volturi will dispose of my family. Perhaps it will be quick; it might even be painless, considering what I learned of Alec's talent last spring. But, watching the flames consume everything around them, I start to wonder if I will feel the heat of my death.

Humans experience their end as a frigid chill – the deadening of their senses – but I have always been cold.

Will it be the opposite for me? Will my icy, stone-like skin absorb the warmth of the fire before it begins to burn through each layer? Or will it scald my nerves, boiling through my veins as the venom that changed me did some ninety years ago?

I have seen quite a number of vampires meet their demise in a similar fashion. Some I even threw into the inferno myself. But those creatures had been torn into pieces before the fire touched their skin, so it seems unlikely that they would have felt anything beyond the point of their body's ruination. To be cast into the blaze _whole,_ still cognizant of what is happening… What must that be like?

I pull out my right hand, troubled by my own morbid curiosity, and hold it above the flickering flames. The alabaster sheen covering my knuckles glimmers dimly in the light, bathed in a yellow glow. The fire appears to leap towards my skin in vain, the heat beginning to seep into my hand –

Abruptly, the image of myself in the blaze vanishes, replaced with the vision of a towering bonfire built upon a snowy tundra, dark silhouettes gathered at its edge. Inside the flames is a young woman clutching a toddler to her breast, her pale blond hair singed as the fire starts to engulf them.

This is the last memory that Tanya and her sisters have of their mother as she died for the creation in her arms – an immortal child whose existence she had kept hidden from her own family.

Flames and roiling gray smoke pass in front of the woman, and when it fades, there is a new face in the fire. A heart-shaped face with wide eyes, a slightly upturned nose, full lips, and a tangled mass of dark hair.

My breath freezes in my lungs.

_No. It's not possible._

The tiny shape in her arms shifts, and a pair of deep brown eyes pierce through me, set into an exquisite face framed by wild bronze curls that seem to mimic the flames as they dance around her cheeks.

_This is not real. No. No!_

Their gazes do not leave me as the fire closes in around them, and in their silence there is no accusation. Raw, desperate pleading burns in their eyes, along with trust – trust that I will save them.

But I cannot even move. The black shapes grip my arms, holding me in place. I struggle and scream and beg – to no avail.

The fire swallows them.

_NO!_

A woman's voice, rendered unfamiliar by shrieks of grief, joins my shout of despair. _"NO! Matka!"_

Gasping, I wrench myself free from the distorted memory, jerking my hand from the fire. My chest heaves and aches with each breath, and I brace my palms on the mantle, lowering my head as I squeeze my eyes shut in the hopes of blocking out the images now seared into the backs of my eyelids.

My worst nightmare, my own personal definition of hell, is to spend even one_ second_ in a world where Bella no longer exists. The agony that had ripped through my empty chest when I heard those four fatal words _"He's at the funeral"_ was exponentially more devastating than when I left her and everything that I was in the Olympic forest seven months earlier. How I had begged God and every power above and below the earth to take what remained of my existence from me. When my pleas went unanswered – which was what I had expected – I bought a plane ticket to Italy.

It was amazing, really, that I had retained enough sanity to form a somewhat rational plan. But after my request for an assisted suicide was denied, my logic effectively fled. I had been prepared to do anything to achieve my goal, all the while clinging to a fragile thread of hope that I could see my angel one last time.

Though that dark time is behind us, the consequences of my actions still taint our lives, culminating with the fact that if I had never left in the first place, our family would have remained on the outskirts of the Volturi's notice. Instead we have become a prime target.

Painful flickers of my warped imagining burst inside my pupils, and my hands tighten convulsively.  
A trickle of fine gray powder floats down to the floor as my fingertips create small dimples in the stone. I feel my lips curl over my clenched teeth, and a low rumble vibrates within my chest, rising into my throat.

The monster that had craved Bella's blood has placed a new claim on her since she was changed. He has been lurking in the shadows for these last few months, but I am always aware of him, always keeping a tight rein on the volatile instincts that stir whenever I hunt or am agitated. But those instincts are no longer tempted to kill, but to defend – to possess. Both sides of my nature understand that Bella is essential for survival, and the need to protect is reinforced by self-preservation.

The fissure in the walls around my emotions opens wider, and a growl manages to slip past my teeth. Primal urges start to tug relentlessly at my failing control, begging for a violent response to this threat against my mate and our child, while also awakening a deeply possessive impulse to take Bella as my own once again.

Inhaling a slow, shuddering breath, I swallow back another growl and force my eyes to open, glaring down into the flames. Some tiny part of my mind recognizes my behavior to be like that of a wounded animal: cornered, prone to rash and aggressive actions, and at the same time seeking comfort from the pain. All I want is to be free from this prison I constructed around myself with my own hands. I want relief from the pain. I want to show Bella how much I love her, how I need her more than anything else.

The walls begin to crumble, and the intensity of the raw emotion behind them threatens to bring me to my knees. My grip on the mantle turns into a desperate hold for support.

A whisper of air mixed with the delicious, tantalizing scent of freesia teases my nostrils, chasing away the sharp, bitter tang of wood smoke. I hear her breathe in, her lips parting as she prepares to speak, and I fight hard to stave off the instinctual craving so that I can listen to and comprehend her words.

"Edward, I –"

I am lost the instant she says my name.

Forfeiting the last meager scraps of restraint, I succumb to a tidal wave of instinct and spin around so quickly that the room dissolves into a wash of muted color. The startled look on Bella's face when she sees my expression barely registers in my need-driven thoughts as I capture her in an unbreakable embrace, my mouth seeking hers feverishly. The momentum of our bodies crashing into one another propels us into the far wall, causing the entire cottage to quake from the sheer force, and Bella's shoulders contour to the stone as I pin her to the wall.

She pulls on my bottom lip with her teeth and I growl in response, moving closer so that I can feel every line of her body against mine. Combing her fingers through my hair, she uses her abundant strength to twist in my arms, gaining enough leverage in order to fasten her legs around my waist. I break away from her lips to taste the decadent skin of her throat and she lets out a purring moan, untangling her hands from my hair to reduce my shirt to tattered pieces of fabric.

Together we sink to the ground, entwined to form a single being on the woven rug in front of the hearth. Her skin burns on mine, a chorus of sighs and soft growls issuing from both our throats, and there is nothing in my head but pure sensation. Desire, lust, need, relief, joy, desperation… all these emotions and so much more revolve solely around Bella. She is my only reality, and it is my deepest wish to soar with her to the heights of heaven – to fly far beyond the stars, never to return to the depths of sorrow that we have endured these past two days.

The monster is lulled into a contented stupor as Bella murmurs my name over and over, her body clinging to mine with exquisite ecstasy. The compulsion to claim her, to make sure that I am the only one who can give her release has sated my unbridled instincts, and the haze begins to clear within my mind.

The sweet floral fragrance of her silken skin tingles on my tongue, and I realize as I wrap my arms tightly around her deceptively delicate frame that, if it were in my power, I would keep us here forever. I would never let anyone or anything rip us apart. Wherever Bella goes, there I will be as well.

I pull back slightly, my palms cradling her perfect face, and I gaze deeply into her eyes. The vivid, glistening ruby of her irises is smoldering with desire, but her lips are curved into a tender smile, and the firelight casts a yellow-gold glow on her expression…

Fire. It swirls like a thing alive around her, seeking to devour the center of my universe…

I drop my head to her shoulder before she can perceive the anguish distorting my features, and my embrace constricts, as though I am trying to disappear into her very soul. There are no more barriers between my innermost being and my visible self; they were washed away by the storm of need and suppressed emotion.

And I am so afraid.

A harsh, choking sound burns its way through my chest and into my throat, escaping my mouth as a muffled sob while I press my lips to Bella's collarbone. Her small hands, which had been stroking feather-light circles on my back, grow still. "Edward?" Her voice, husky with passion, wavers in alarm when another dry sob tears itself from my throat, rippling across her skin. "Edward, what's wrong?"

She tries to sit up, angling her upper body in an effort to see my face – but in my shattered psyche, all I notice is that she seems to be moving away from me. Frantic, I secure her slender form to mine with my arms and legs, struggling to breathe as a hard lump of grief expands in the center of my chest like a weight pressing down on my lungs.

"Edward, please!" Bella begs, truly frightened. She grips my shoulders, shaking hard, her voice rising in pitch and beginning to quaver as she pleads again, "Please tell me what's wrong!"

The words come pouring out of me in an endless stream. "I'm sorry, Bella. I'm so sorry. There is a sword hanging over our heads again, and this time I can't protect you from it – you or Renesmee. You have given so much to me, never asking for anything in return except my love…yet I cannot give you what you truly deserve. You deserve to live in a world without suffering, and it _kills_ me inside that I'm powerless to spare you and our daughter from this pain."

A shuddering gasp fills my heavy chest, infused with the sweetness of freesia, and I clutch Bella to me in utter dependence, as one would hold onto the source of their salvation after being pulled from the abyss.

Which is exactly what she is. My salvation.

"I need you, Bella." The confession floats across her floral-scented skin as a broken whisper scarcely louder than a breath. "I need you so badly… it terrifies me to even conceive of what my life would be like without you." A sudden tremor wracks my rigid body. "The twenty-four hours when I believed you were dead demonstrated all too clearly what I should have already known. Whatever happens in the future, I _cannot_ and I _will not_ exist apart from you." My vow rings in the stillness with solemn conviction, and I wait for her to absorb my words.

After a few unbearably silent moments, the thin arms wrapped around me tighten, and Bella lays her cheek on my disheveled hair, murmuring softly, "I feel the same way."

Closing my eyes, I bend my head down a little further to brush my lips along the hollow of her throat. I knew, of course, that her feelings would be the same as mine in this instance – but hearing her say it out loud in that gentle yet unyielding tone causes the painful spikes of anguish bombarding my heart to recede just a bit.

But my time of confession is far from over.

"This has been bothering you for a while, hasn't it?" Bella remarks, threading her fingers absently through the tousled locks at the nape of my neck. She does not seem to expect an answer so I remain quiet, uncharacteristically nervous that she has seen through my pretense – as she is prone to do – and afraid of what she may ask next.

I try to lose myself in her tender caresses, marveling at the way our individual scents have mingled to create an entirely new, intoxicating fragrance that hovers in the air above us, and then she prompts tentatively, "Why didn't you say something before?"

"Because I am a coward."

I can almost picture the troubled frown that is sure to be marring Bella's expression, and her breast rises as she inhales, preparing to contradict me. I continue on swiftly, though my voice is halting, ashamed. "It was selfish of me not to tell you sooner – especially after I asked you to always share your feelings with me, but… I didn't – I didn't want you to see me differently. In admitting my…weakness…" The word gets caught in the back of my throat. I take a deep breath and plunge ahead. "…I thought that you would believe_ me_ to be weak, as well. And I couldn't bear to be seen as anything less than what I am in your eyes."

"That will never happen," she declares confidently. Her unwavering faith in me and my ability to keep her safe has been a source of both pleasure and frustration throughout the course of our relationship, and those emotions war with one another inside me while she continues in her attempt to bolster my fractured psyche. "You're the strongest person I know. Stronger than me." There is a brief pause, and then she amends, "Well, maybe not stronger than me_ physically_ right now, but in every other sense."

I shake my head, the tip of my nose grazing across her collarbone. Bella lets out a tiny sigh in exasperation. "Why can't you see yourself the way that I do?" she mutters under her breath.

My mouth tries to shape into a smile, failing miserably. So stubborn, my Bella – always trying to convince me that I am actually worthy of her love. Still, she also has a blind spot when it comes to her own self-image. "I might ask you the same question," I point out in an even tone, though I am certain that she can hear the hollowness lingering behind the banter.

"We're not talking about my 'inobservance' or whatever you want to call it," she snaps impatiently. "You are not weak, so I will never see you as weak. Period."

How I wish that were true. "The trouble is," I murmur despondently into the satiny softness of her neck, "I_ am_ weak. I've clung so obstinately to my greatest fear that it has imbedded itself in my brain." Desperation colors each phrase passing through my lips. "I can't escape from it. Every time I blink, it's there, torturing me."

One of Bella's arms winds around my head, cradling it against her breast, while the other encircles my waist. "Tell me," she whispers quietly.

Swallowing hard, I choke out, "I'll have to watch you die." My hold constricts around her body when she inhales a low gasp in response. "I've seen it so many times," I tell her bleakly. "You and Renesmee, burning in the fire. And I can't save you; I can't join you. I can only watch. It's their protocol:" I will not say that name in our home. Not ever. "The immortal child is destroyed along with the creator first. Then the rest of the offending coven may be granted a show of leniency, though it is usually no more than that – a show." My hands on her back clench into fists as I vow, a growl punctuating my promise, "But I will never accept an offer of mercy. I will throw myself into the flames. I only hope that you will wait for me, so that I can see you both before I am sent to where I belong –"

Bella abruptly jerks upright, still confining me in her steely embrace, and rearranges our bodies so that we are sitting across from one another on the floor. Then, she places her soft palms on either side of my face and pulls back, her crimson eyes blazing with a ferocious light. I am helpless under the force of her gaze and stare, utterly captivated, as she asserts in a fierce, uncompromising voice, "It's not going to happen, Edward. We're in this together now – and that means wherever I go, you're coming with me. Because anywhere that you are is heaven, even if it may be hell."

Her face is hovering mere inches from mine, her delicious-smelling breath tingling on my lips; it is a simple act to lean forward and taste her sweet kisses. My hands dance across the smooth expanse of her bare back as she loops her slender arms around my neck, our bodies pulling towards one another like magnets, unable to be separated when so near to the other. "I love you," I murmur into her mouth, and she echoes the sentiment in a velvety moan as I gather her in my arms, lifting her from the floor. Our lips scarcely part while I carry her to the bedroom, pushing the door closed behind us with my foot. The windows to the garden sparkle with frost in the moonlight; the surface of the tiny pond has begun to ice over.

We fall onto the bed and entwine, infinitely tender – yet tinged with a desperation to convey in such a short amount of time our combined need and passion for each other. The sacred beauty of our union robs me of speech, so I use every caress and kiss to tell my Bella without words that she has rekindled my hope of an existence with her beyond this world. The bond between us, which has been tempered by adversity, has transformed our separate hearts into a single, indestructible entity. It can never be undone.

Despite the faint pang of grief in my chest that I have barred this angel from heaven – making her like me in order to brighten my darkness – her promise rings true: wherever eternity may find us, it will find us together.

And my silent heart rejoices.

When the moon dips beneath the ink-black outline of the forest, the sky slowly turns from misty charcoal to pale opalescent with the approaching sunrise. Our time of forgetfulness is drawing to a close, and I inwardly mourn its passing while my fingertips trace abstract lines on Bella's arm, my other hand playing with strands of her silken brown hair. She, in the meantime, is drawing invisible patterns on my chest, her cheek pillowed on my shoulder.

Briefly, I fix my attention on Renesmee's muted thoughts. The corner of my mouth twitches a second later. She is dreaming, and it is highly doubtful that she will be waking up anytime soon. We have a few more hours – two at least – to enjoy together.

"_Tanya's family will be here in the morning…"_ My conscience pricks me with the memory of Carlisle's parting words, and I stifle a deep sigh. There is a job to be done – we can no longer remain in the comforting illusions of the night.

I press my lips gently to Bella's forehead, hoping to soften the blow of reality, and comment in a low voice, "The sun will be up soon, love." Her fingers pause in mid-motion, and I have to force myself to finish. "We need to get back to the house."

She burrows into my side, entangling her limbs with mine, her full lips teasing the skin of my throat as she begs, her tone positively heartbreaking, "Not yet. Please."

Easily defeated by her plea, I rest willingly in the prison of her embrace and wait, allowing her to determine when she is ready to face what lies in store for us today.

The minutes begin to tick by, and Bella's eyes shift frequently to the frost-coated windows, watching the sky grow lighter with a pale gold hue. In due course, the first subtle beams of sunlight streak across the horizon, painting the landscape in a topaz glow and igniting soft sparkles on our skin, and Bella fidgets restlessly beside me. She sighs, the sound tremulous, and slides to the edge of the mattress. Sitting upright, I notice the supple contours of her bare back tauten, the muscles stiffening, as she lithely rises to her feet. I quickly mimic her movements and shadow her hurried footsteps towards the closet.

Visions of the sister I lost flit through my mind after Bella throws open the double doors, but I shove them down into the deep recesses of my memory. There is no place for her here anymore.

Grabbing the first practical clothing that my hands touch, I mutter to Bella, "I wish there was a way to get the information we need from Eleazar before we tell them about Nessie." Pushing my arms through a knit gray sweater, I throw it over my head and then reach for a pair of worn black pants. "Just in case."

Bella is already dressed, combing her fingers hastily through her hair while she slips on her old tennis shoes, and replies perceptively, "But he wouldn't understand the question to answer it." We dart back into the bedroom, shutting the closet doors as she asks, biting down on her lower lip, "Do you think they'll let us explain?"

I stop just outside the doorway to the hall and glance at her over my shoulder. "I don't know," I admit quietly.

She glides past me, pausing to stand on her tiptoes in order to fluff my rumpled hair with her fingers, and heads into Renesmee's room while I make my way to the front door.

Less than two seconds later, Bella is toting our slumbering daughter in her capable arms, the little girl's silky ringlets pressed against her cheek. I open the door as she approaches, holding it for her. To my surprise, she hesitates on the threshold, turning sideways to face me. Her expression is puzzling – an odd blend of wary anticipation and determination. Then she asks, "Edward, will you teach me how to fight?"

I freeze, my eyes widening as ice seeps into my dead veins. An immediate refusal hangs on the tip of my tongue…but while my gaze sweeps along the length of her body, I come to the realization that Bella is not the fragile, vulnerable human I defended and worried for anymore. She is strong, fast, and intelligent – as lethal as any other vampire, including me. Nevertheless, she is still infinitely precious; I cannot risk her. And besides, my reasoning concludes as I study Renesmee's limp form in her arms, our daughter needs at least one of her parents with her for as long as possible.

Attempting to sidestep the issue before either of us devises a better argument, I reply cautiously, "If it comes to a fight, there won't be much any of us can do."

Bella's ruby-colored eyes flare with a sudden burst of annoyance, and her lips flatten into a hard, stubborn line. "Would you leave me unable to defend myself?" she questions in an even tone.

The image of Bella crouching underneath Felix's depraved leer rematerializes in the back of my brain, and my throat contracts convulsively around the snarl fighting to break loose from my mouth as the door shudders in protest from the force of my hand tightening on the wood. If that vile brute even _looks_ at her the wrong way I will rip his eyes from their sockets.

A metallic-sounding screech echoes dimly in my ears; I am about to tear our front door from its hinges unless I get a hold of my temper. Common sense tells me that Bella has every right to learn how to fight off an assailant, and since she has asked me to teach her, I could show her moves that are strictly defensive rather than encouraging her to jump headlong in the fray. It will satisfy her need to contribute to our cause, and it will give me peace of mind…after a fashion.

I nod at her while consciously ordering my tense fingers to release their vise-grip on the door. "When you put it that way…" I remark in a somewhat moderate voice, "I suppose we should get to work as soon as we can."

She bobs her head in agreement and continues across the threshold, waiting for me on the stone path as I close the door. We begin walking, unhurried, our arms brushing together with each stride, and after a few moments I glance sideways to look at her expression. She seems thoughtful – eyes slightly narrowed, lips pursed – and the usual curiosity burns through my mind. Just as I successfully quell the urge to pose my persistently employed question, Bella speaks up. "What would you say their biggest advantage is?" she inquires, looking at me over the top of Renesmee's head. "Do they even have a weakness?"

Understanding at once to whom she is referring, I answer her in a bland, detached manner, "Alec and Jane are their greatest offense. Their defensive players rarely see any real action." And why would they? The sadistic twins create a path of destruction wherever they go, using their exceptional powers to advance Aro's lust for supremacy in the immortal world.

"Because Jane can burn you where you stand – mentally at least." Bella frowns a little, tilting her head to the side. "What does Alec do? Didn't you once say he was even more dangerous than Jane?"

So she remembers that conversation. I had been hoping to keep this from her for a bit longer, but she deserves to know what we are up against, and I should know better than to underestimate her resilient courage. "Yes," I respond quietly. "In a way, he is the antidote to Jane. She makes you feel the worst pain imaginable. Alec, on the other hand, makes you feel nothing. Absolutely nothing."  
I raise my eyebrows a fraction, studying her expression to see if that uncanny intuition of hers has been triggered yet. A frown still pulls down the corners of her mouth as she contemplates my explanation, so I go on. "Sometimes, when the Volturi are feeling kind," my lips twist into a faint sneer, "they have Alec anesthetize someone before he is executed. If he has surrendered or pleased them in some other way," I add.

"Anesthetic?" she remarks in confusion. "But how is that more dangerous than Jane?"

Peering deep into her splendid, expressive eyes, I tell her grimly, "Because he cuts off your senses altogether. No pain, but also no sight or sound or smell. Total sensory deprivation. You are utterly alone in the blackness. You don't even feel it when they burn you."

Bella shivers as the meaning of such a gift finally sinks in, and she moves closer to me unconsciously, pressing her shoulder into my arm. Resisting the impulse to wrap that arm around her waist, I resume my tutorial in the same emotionless tone. "That would make him only equally as dangerous as Jane, in that they both can incapacitate you, make you into a helpless target. The difference between them is like the difference between Aro and me." I apologize to her with my eyes as I explain, "Aro hears the mind of only one person at a time. Jane can only hurt the one object of her focus." I pause to inhale a short breath, and to summon the will to continue. "I can hear everyone at the same time."

Her face blanches, her full lips parting in shock. "And Alec can incapacitate us all at the same time?" she whispers hoarsely, her features iced over with fear, and part of me mourns the loss of yet another facet of her innocence.

"Yes. If he uses his gift against us, we will all stand blind and deaf until they get around to killing us – maybe they'll simply burn us without bothering to tear us apart first." My words are so callous and remote that Bella cringes a little, but if I allow myself to have less control over my emotions as I speak of our end, I will never recover. "Oh, we could try to fight," I comment indifferently, "but we'll be more likely to hurt one another than we would be to hurt one of them." I will just have to make certain that I have Bella in my arms before Alec's gift takes affect – that way, she and I can depart from this life together, even though we will not see one another in those last moments.

Silence blankets our journey through the forest for a few seconds, and then Bella asks, her tone speculative, "Do you think Alec is a very good fighter? Aside from what he can do, I mean." I feel my brow crinkle in puzzlement, wondering where she is going with this odd conjecture. "If he had to fight without his gift," she says slowly, hinting at…something…but I am unsure as to what that may be. "I wonder if he's ever even tried…" She trails off, a strange, almost feral glint in her crimson eyes, and suspicion erupts within my thoughts.

Whipping my head sideways in a move so quick that the air sings in my ears, I focus intently on her carefully blank profile and demand, "What are you thinking?"

She keeps staring straight ahead, and my frustration – and suspicion – mounts when I am unable to read any flickers of her thoughts on her face. "Well," she begins placidly, "he probably can't do that to me, can he? If what he does is like Aro and Jane and you. Maybe…if he's never really had to defend himself…and I learned a few tricks –"

No.

The scenario manifests hazily in my mind's eye: every member of our family, completely immobilized on the snow-covered field in Alice's vision – frozen, helpless statues awaiting their deaths.

All but Bella. _My_ Bella, facing the entire Volturi guard alone.

_No._

"He's been with the Volturi for centuries," I interrupt her swiftly, my voice rough with panic. "Yes, you're surely immune to his power, but you are still a newborn, Bella. I can't make you that strong a fighter in a few weeks." _And I can't prepare you for this ludicrous, suicidal plan you've concocted. I won't._ "I'm sure he's had training," I finish, trying to dissuade her.

She lifts her tiny shoulders in a shrug. "Maybe. Maybe not." The panic eating away at my insides turns razor-sharp with desperation and darkens as fury sparks in my hollow chest. Does she have any idea what her notions of selfless idiocy are doing to me?

Her determined statement breaks through my agitated, distraught reverie. "It's the one thing I can do that no one else can. Even if I can just_ distract_ him for a while –"

My teeth snap together, stifling a low growl that vibrates in my bones. She truly is going to be the death of me. "Please, Bella," I enunciate every syllable of her name with precise care, inwardly beseeching her to let this go while also struggling not to grab her by the arms and shake some sense into that incredible, convoluted mind. "Let's not talk about this."

She glances up at me then, and the inviting warmth glowing behind the stern resolve in her eyes causes my mercurial temperament to settle. Until, that is, she advises softly, "Be reasonable."

Reasonable? I want to roar out of sheer aggravation. _I _am being unreasonable? _She_ is the one who is suggesting the most ridiculous, _insane_ battle tactic I have ever heard and she tells me to 'be reasonable'!

I pinch the bridge of my nose with thumb and forefinger, breathing deep and slow, willing myself to calm down. I sense Bella edge closer, and then her small hand touches my forearm with the gentlest pressure. That gesture is enough to help me regain some of my self-control, and I lower my hand, meeting her gaze. "I will try to teach you what I can," I promise in a subdued murmur, my stare roving hungrily across her perfectly shaped features, "but please don't make me think about you sacrificing yourself as a diversion –" I choke on the remainder of my sentence and decide to leave it unsaid.

Bella inclines her head, conceding to my request, but her normally revealing expression is void of all indication as to what she might be thinking – and that usually happens when she is reflecting on something she knows I will not approve of. "I have to learn everything," she mentions under her breath. "As much as you can possibly cram into my head in the next month."

Assuming that she does not expect an answer, I remain quiet, turning my own thoughts towards a more constructive battle strategy.

Obviously, Jane and Alec are priority targets; the trouble would come when any of us tried to get close enough to one of them to do some damage. Felix is nothing more than hired muscle with a lust for violence, and could therefore be easily dealt with by someone a bit more apt to outmaneuver their opponent.

Then there is Demetri.

The Volturi's tracker has one of the most adept, calculating minds I have ever encountered, and his gift is the main reason why we have to prepare for this fight. No matter where on the whole planet we may try to hide, he will find us. And if our family perishes, Aro will most certainly send him after Alice and Jasper.

But…if one of us is able to kill him…my sister and brother would be safe – quite possibly forever. A part of the Cullen family could go on…

My mind instantly rejects the idea of giving_ her_ anything after she abandoned us, but the love I still have for my best friend insists that, if it is in my power to grant her some peace, then it is the least I can do.

"Demetri…" Bella's soft voice pulls me from my inner conflict. I am a little surprised that we seem to be sharing the same thoughts, though she has no reason to even consider the tracker as a potential mark. I have made my decision.

"Demetri is mine," I announce harshly, my face twisting into a vicious snarl, and my fingers curl instinctively at my sides.

Bella studies my hard expression with worried eyes, whispering almost inaudibly, "Why?"

I cannot form a rational answer at first. When we reach the riverbank, I finally glance at her from the corner of my eye and murmur, "For Alice." Her name burns in my mouth, and I swallow once. "It's the only thanks I can give her now for the last fifty years." Whether or not she deserves it, I owe her many times over – most especially for the angel now standing beside me, her heart-shaped face radiating compassion.

_It's about time! Cutting it pretty close, don't you think?_

Jacob's customarily loud thoughts reverberate in my skull as he bounds through the woods, approaching from the west. The massive red-brown wolf trots over to Bella's side, black eyes locked on the sleeping child nestled in her arms. _She's still sleeping. That's good – she needs to get her rest. _His musings become more like those of a mother hen, wondering if we've fed her yet and so forth, and I quickly shut him out.

Bella nods once in his direction, acknowledging his presence politely, and then returns her attention to me. "Edward, why do you think Alice told us to ask Eleazar about the Volturi? Has he been in Italy recently or something? What could he know?"

We leap across the river before I give her an answer. Truthfully, I had forgotten that Bella does not know the story of Eleazar's origin. I suppose it would have been easier to tell her at a less stressful time…but I have little choice in the matter now. "Eleazar knows everything when it comes to the Volturi. I forgot you didn't know." I watch her reaction carefully as I reply, "He used to be one of them."

She jerks backward, startled, and a low hiss filters through her clenched teeth. Jacob growls, his mind shouting an interesting array of expletives to convey his shock.

"What?" Bella exclaims sharply. Her indignant, livid expression reminds me of all the occasions when she tried, as a human, to intimidate me, a vampire, with her endearingly absurd tiger-kitten anger.

I feel my icy features melt, softening, and I offer her a faint smile. "Eleazar is a very gentle person," I begin, preparing to summarize my cousin's history in a few sentences. "He wasn't entirely happy with the Volturi, but he respected the law and its need to be upheld. He felt he was working toward the greater good. He doesn't regret his time with them. But when he found Carmen, he found his place in this world. They are very similar people, both very compassionate for vampires." My smile becomes more pronounced. "They met Tanya and her sisters, and they never looked back. They are well suited to this lifestyle. If they'd never found Tanya, I imagine they would have eventually discovered a way to live without human blood on their own."

Bella's nose is scrunched up in bewilderment, her eyes distant. Jacob, preferring to be more inquisitive – and abrupt – in any conversation, asks mentally, _So was he one of their warriors? Like Jane or whatever the hell her name is?_

I look over at him, saying, "No, he wasn't one of their warriors, so to speak. He had a gift they found convenient."

_Which is?_

"He has an instinctive feel for the gifts of others – the extra abilities that some vampires have," I explain, crossing my arms lightly over my chest. "He could give Aro a general idea of what any given vampire was capable of just by being in proximity with him or her. This was helpful when the Volturi went into battle. He could warn them if someone in the opposing coven had a skill that might give them some trouble." I snort very quietly. "That was rare; it takes quite a skill to even inconvenience the Volturi for a moment. More often, the warning would give Aro the chance to save someone who might be useful to him." Lifting one shoulder in a casual shrug, I remark in an offhand manner, "Eleazar's gift works even with humans, to an extent. He has to really concentrate with humans, though, because the latent ability is so nebulous. Aro would have him test the people who wanted to join, to see if they had any potential. Aro was sorry to see him go." Actually, he had begged, cajoled, and offered Eleazar everything but his own power to try and get him to stay, but Eleazar refused. Carmen was all he needed.

"They let him go?" Bella is incredulous, her eyes filled with disbelief. "Just like that?"

My smile distorts, growing dark with a sort of twisted humor, and I tell her, "The Volturi aren't supposed to be the villains, the way they seem to you. They are the foundation of our peace and civilization. Each member of the guard chooses to serve them." The tenor of my voice lowers in cynicism. "It's quite prestigious; they all are proud to be there, not forced to be there."

She looks aside, scowling, as the four of us cross the meadow, ice-coated blades of grass glistening in the early morning light. Reaching towards her, I gently sweep her hair back, my fingertips brushing the soft curve of her jaw. "They're only alleged to be heinous and evil by the criminals, Bella," I comment quietly.

Her head snaps up, and she fixes me with a clear, piercing glare. "We're not criminals," she declares, outraged and defiant.

Jacob huffs, his hot breath creating a cloud of steam in the wintry air. _You got that right._

"They don't know that," I inform them both, despondency trickling through the level inflection in my voice. The skin of my palm prickles with want, and automatically shapes itself to Bella's face, the pad of thumb stroking her cheek.

She leans into my hand, the rebellious light in her eyes transforming into a flash of anxiety, and she murmurs low and quick under her breath, "Do you really think we can make them stop and listen?"

Intensely reluctant to lie to her, I hesitate for a fraction of a second before responding with a shrug, "If we find enough friends to stand beside us. Maybe." The hope fueling my words is frail – as easily crushed as a spider's web in the bitter winds of winter – but Tanya's visit today could strengthen that hope.

A sudden rush of urgency crackles through my nerves. Bella seems to sense the change in my demeanor, and in unison we increase our pace, leaping forward into a sprint. Jacob lopes after us as I say to Bella, "Tanya shouldn't be too much longer. We need to be ready."

Scrambling up the porch stairs, I hold the front door open for Bella while Jacob veers to the far right side of the house to change back into human form. Once he is inside, the three of us begin to discuss how to proceed with our preparations for the Denali coven's arrival. A few minutes into the conversation, Renesmee awakens, her bleary eyes widening quickly as she takes in her mother's strained white face and my pacing back and forth along the length of the front room. Jacob tries to persuade her to eat, but the little girl refuses, insisting that she is not hungry.

Eventually, we decide that I will meet Tanya and her family alone while Bella, Renesmee, and Jacob keep out of sight in the dining room until I call them. Bella chooses a seat at the polished mahogany table that hides her from view by the corner wall and Renesmee stays securely in her lap, since Jacob wants to maintain a safe distance from her if he needs to phase. He squirms, restless, in the chair at the head of the table, his dark eyes straying about the room, though his attention lands on Renesmee every time she so much as breathes differently.

I lean against the back windows, watching the front door as I open my mind fully, listening to the thoughts of every being within five miles of the house. I intend to know what my cousins are thinking the instant their minds are in range; there is no room for surprises or oversights. Too much is already at stake.

With a tiny sigh, Renesmee nestles her curl-shrouded head into Bella's neck, her hand resting lightly on her cheek. No vivid pictures fill her thoughts, however. Instead, she thinks the question at the same time that she voices it aloud in a fearful whisper, "What if they don't like me?"

Looking down at her pale face, her beautiful features covered with anxiety, my still heart turns over in my chest as I share in her distress. Renesmee is certainly more intelligent and emotionally mature than any other child in existence, but she has had to deal with circumstances so grave that even I have struggled to survive. She has grown up more in the last thirty-six hours than the entire four months of her life. And that knowledge fills me with deep remorse.

Agonized by her fear, Jacob immediately speaks up, wanting to reassure her. "Of course they'll –"

Bella's scarlet eyes cut to his face, silencing him. Tilting her chin downward, she murmurs into our daughter's bronze ringlets, "They don't understand you, Renesmee, because they've never met anyone like you." Her tone is very tender and soothing, belying the worry that mars her exquisite expression. "Getting them to understand is the problem."

The little girl sighs – a melancholy sound that should have no place coming from her rosebud lips – and a whirlwind of images race through her head: the faces of vampires, werewolves, and humans. Then she envisions herself, standing alone in the woods, coloring it with profound sadness. She does not fit in any of the worlds represented, straddling the line between the realms of mortal and immortal.

"You're special," Bella assures, tightening her embrace, "that's not a bad thing."

Renesmee shakes her head. My face, Bella's, and Jacob's appear in her thoughts, surrounded by grief, dismay, and…guilt? "This is my fault," she breathes, scarcely louder than a whisper.

"No," I deny vehemently, at the same time as Bella and Jacob. The combined volume of our forceful voices has only begun to reverberate in the room when the distinct sound of a slowing engine and tires spinning on moist earth causes each of us to freeze in place. Renesmee's fluttering heart skips a beat, and she buries herself in her mother's thick brown tresses. I can feel Bella's eyes on my face, but I do not trust myself enough to meet her stare as I run into the other room to wait by the door.

Once the approaching vehicle is a few miles from the house, I pick up on the familiar timbre of Tanya's mind and instantly latch on, sifting rapidly through the thoughts in her vicinity to detect Kate, Eleazar, and Carmen. It will take a significant amount of concentration to monitor all of them simultaneously; I cannot allow myself to become distracted for even the smallest portion of a second.

Curiosity is the dominant factor in my cousin's minds, along with an eagerness to see our family – and Bella, since she has now been changed. I listen dimly to the sounds of their car coming to a stop in front of the house, the engine turning off, and four doors opening and closing at random intervals. I take a brief moment to carefully school my features into a blank, polite mask. _I have the utmost faith in you, son. _Carlisle's voice echoes from my memory, and I absorb the unwavering belief permeating his words before I cast him and all other thoughts aside except for those of our visitors.

The moment one set of light footsteps hit the first stair, I pull open the front door, positioning myself in the center of the threshold.

Amber eyes framed by waves of strawberry-blonde hair greet me, and Tanya enthuses brightly, "Edward!" _I wasn't expecting you to greet us, _she adds mentally, her gaze darting over my shoulder, in search of the rest of my family.

"Hello, Tanya," I reply as cordially as I can manage. Her smile falters slightly while I shift my gaze to the golden-haired woman behind her right shoulder. "Kate," and then to the couple on her left, "Eleazar, Carmen."

"Hello," the three of them chorus in response.

_Something is not right here._ Tanya speaks up, examining my face carefully and noting the bleak look in my eyes, "Carlisle said he needed to talk to us right away. What's the problem? Trouble with the werewolves?"

Jacob snorts inside his head. I block him roughly from my awareness, narrowing my focus to the four minds standing before me, and answer in a mild voice, "No. Our truce with the werewolves is stronger than ever."

Crestfallen, Tanya's shoulders slump at little, and Kate chuckles, her topaz irises twinkling with good humor. _You know she's looking for a chance to redeem herself in your – and your family's – eyes,_ she informs me, her thoughts teasing. But she, too, has noticed my severe, controlled expression, and the fact that I have not allowed them to enter the house. A fact that Tanya brings up an instant later.

"Aren't you going to invite us in?" She rises on her tiptoes, peering around my upper body to glimpse the large, vacant room behind me. _I don't see…_ "Where's Carlisle?"

"Carlisle had to leave."

Four pairs of keen ocher eyes study my face, a mixture of emotions visible in their unblinking stares, their minds suddenly deafening with questions.

Tanya takes a half-step closer, placing her hands on her hips, and demands in a no-nonsense tone, "What's going on, Edward?"

I inhale a short breath, striving for diplomacy. "If you could give me the benefit of the doubt for just a few minutes," I request quietly. Holding out an upturned palm towards them, I meet each concerned gaze for a half-second before continuing. "I have something difficult to explain, and I'll need you to be open-minded until you understand."

"Is Carlisle all right?" Eleazar surges forward, nudging Tanya aside with an arm, his mind awash in trepidation.

I turn over my opened hand and clasp his shoulder. "None of us is all right, Eleazar," I admit in a low murmur, but I pat him on the shoulder to try and alleviate some of his worry. It is a vain effort, of course; if anything, Eleazar grows more tensed, and I assure him hastily, "But physically, Carlisle is fine."

"Physically?" Tanya's sharp inquiry slices through the brisk air. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that my entire family is in very grave danger." I lower my hand from Eleazar's shoulder, and then spread my arms wide in a gesture of supplication. "But before I explain, I ask for your promise." It becomes immensely difficult to keep the desperation from my voice, but I force myself to go on, drawing upon every last vestige of strength that I have left. "Listen to everything I say before you react. I am begging you to hear me out," I appeal, convinced that I will shamelessly drop to my knees if it will persuade them to agree to my terms.

Tanya turns around to exchange a brief glance with her sister. Kate nods once, her cornsilk tresses swinging over a shoulder. She had made her decision even before I finished speaking. Eleazar, however, holds Tanya's eyes for a longer stretch of time, his thoughts centered on the safety of their family. And Carmen, whose mind has stayed relatively passive throughout this meeting, only mentions internally that whatever the circumstances may be, they should be gracious enough to afford me the opportunity to explain.

Finally, Tanya returns her gaze to me, tilting her chin a bit in resolve as she announces, "We're listening. We will hear it all before we judge." _We owe you that much. We_ are_ family, after all._

Unable to suppress the urge, I breathe out a quiet sigh of relief. "Thank you, Tanya." The words smolder with grateful fervor. "We wouldn't involve you in this if we had any other choice." I take a step sideways, motioning with a hand for her and the others to enter.

_Ugh. That stench. _Tanya sniffs, her nose wrinkling in distaste, and mutters to herself, "I knew those werewolves were involved." _How can you stand it? _She shudders at the notion of living in a house that reeks of wet dog.

"Yes," I answer her verbal comment, closing the door softly, "and they're on our side. Again."

Shamed, she offers a feeble apology in her mind. Kate brushes her sister's forearm lightly with her fingertips in a wordless, soothing gesture.

Carmen, lingering in the protective shadow of her mate, asks in her kind, subtly accented voice, "Where's your Bella? How is she?"

Looking into her round, compassionate face, the faint olive tone of her skin highlighted by a luxurious abundance of black hair, I am unexpectedly reminded of the one loyal human friend Bella had gained in high school. Though Angela Weber looks nothing like the petite Hispanic vampire in front of me, their personalities are strikingly similar. And perhaps Carmen's sympathetic nature will work in our favor as we proceed into the more complex aspects of the next few minutes.

I smile at her – the first genuine smile that anyone besides Bella has managed to coax out of me in the past two days. "She'll join us shortly," I say, and all of them immediately discern the change in my tone as I speak of my wife. "She's well, thank you. She's taken to immortality with amazing finesse."

Tanya moves to my side, her expression grave, and murmurs with quiet seriousness, "Tell us about the danger, Edward. We'll listen, and we'll be on your side, where we belong." Listening to the motivation within her thoughts, I realize that Kate was correct in her earlier remark; Tanya would like nothing more than to atone for their refusal to aid us when we had called upon them for help with the newborn army.

Filling my lungs with a deep breath, I find myself wishing that I believed God would hear and answer the prayer of a vampire. If ever we needed a touch of the divine, it is now. Nevertheless, I reply with my own solemn request, "I'd like you to witness for yourselves first." Nodding towards the doorway that leads to the two most cherished people in my life, I tell my cousins, "Listen – in the other room. What do you hear?"

After a fraction of a second, the steady, wet thrum of a heartbeat stirs the incessant thirst in their throats, and Kate leans forward involuntarily. I throw out an arm to stop her, instructing, "Just listen first, please."

"A werewolf, I assume," Tanya answers. "I can hear his heart."_ And smell him, as well._

"What else?" I ask, immersing myself in the collective hum of their thoughts, my eyes intent on their changing facial expressions.

There is another pregnant pause, and then Carmen's features light up with inquisitive bewilderment. "What is that thrumming?" She tilts her head a little more to one side. "Is that…some kind of a bird?"

"No, but remember what you're hearing." I wait for that comment to sink in, for each of them to commit the unique rhythm of Renesmee's heart to memory, and afterwards I remark in a low voice, "Now, what do you smell?" Tanya shoots me a dubious glare. "Besides the werewolf," I add for her benefit.

Eleazar's mind receives a jolt of shock as the new, lighter scent filters through the pungent odor of the wolves. "Is there a human here?" he whispers, stunned.

"No." Tanya narrows her eyes, concentrating, and inhales deeply. _Such a strange aroma – pleasant, and sweet, but also appealing. It could be human…and yet… _"It's not human…" she disagrees aloud, "but…closer to human than the rest of the scents here." Her stare flashes up to mine, radiating curiosity. "What is that, Edward? I don't think I've ever smelled that fragrance before."

"You most certainly have not, Tanya," I concur, bracing myself for what is to come. Imploring her, and the others, with my eyes, I say earnestly, "Please,_ please_ remember that this is something entirely new to you. Throw away your preconceived notions." I have already said both too much and too little; all that is left is to show them the truth – for them to see it with their own eyes.

She touches my hand fleetingly and murmurs, "I promised you I would listen, Edward."

"All right, then." Raising my head, I angle my body towards the entrance to the dining room, calling softly, "Bella? Bring out Renesmee, please."

Hushed, wary movements echo from the other room, and Jacob proclaims adamantly in his mind that he has no intention of staying behind, even as I detect his heavier footsteps shadowing Bella's nearly inaudible approach. She rounds the corner, her expression void of any emotion – but as her wide crimson eyes lock onto mine, I can clearly see the numbing fear threatening to paralyze her. Gliding forward only one small step into the spacious room, Bella jerks to a halt, her gaze skittering across the Denali vampires before returning to me, trust warring with the fear inside her eyes.

Renesmee, though she is deeply terrified of their reaction, takes a deep breath and bravely lifts her face from Bella's curtain of brown hair, her tiny body stiff in apprehension.

Once she is in full view, the effect is immediate – and explosive.

Shrieking an inward oath from her native Slovakia, Tanya scurries backward, her entire body quivering with shock and horror. Kate retreats in a swift leap to the front door, her face ashen, and braces herself against the wall, a sharp hiss erupting through her clenched teeth. Carmen gasps, her fingers flying to her mouth, as Eleazar instinctively crouches in front of her, his features sallow with dread.

My skull throbs with the distraught, frightened thoughts filling their minds, and I resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. Jacob crosses his long, muscular arms over his chest, rolling his eyes as he grumbles under his breath, "Oh _please." You have_ got_ to be kidding me. She's only a baby, for crying out loud, and they're acting like a bunch of candy-asses!_

Crossing the short distance between us, I wrap an arm around Bella, pulling her and our daughter close. "You promised to listen," I remind my cousins in a low, solemn voice.

"Some things cannot be heard!" Tanya wails. Her mind is reeling – a crazed, tumultuous whirlpool of denial, panic, and traumatic remembrances of her mother's execution centuries ago. "How could you, Edward?" she cries, aggrieved. "Do you not know what this means?"

Frantic, Kate gropes blindly for the doorknob. "We have to get out of here." _The Volturi will surely kill us all this time._

"Edward…" Eleazar stares, uncomprehending, and appears incapable of forming a complete thought, vacillating between words of refusal and Spanish exclamations.

Kate's fingers then encounter the cool metal of the doorknob and she grasps it tightly. "Wait," I say in a louder, harder tone. "Remember what you hear, what you smell. Renesmee is not what you think she is."

Tanya rails at me, seething and hysterical, "There are no exceptions to this rule, Edward." Her eyes are unforgiving, glacial shards of topaz. _You have sentenced everyone you love to death, _she snarls mentally. _I thought you were a better man than that._

Fire bursts within my cold body, searing every nerve and igniting my volatile temper. Only the comforting, familiar weight of Bella's body resting against mine keeps the growl from escaping my throat as I counter Tanya's rebuke sharply, "Tanya, you can hear her heartbeat! Stop and think about what that means," I tell her, my fierce glare boring into her accusing eyes.

_That sound… that strange thrumming… Could it be –? _Wide-eyed, Carmen peers around Eleazar's outstretched arm, studying the little girl huddled in my wife's rigid embrace. "Her heartbeat?" she whispers. Eleazar throws her a wild, disbelieving glance.

Focusing on her cautious, puzzled expression, I reply, each phrase slow and measured, "She is not a full vampire child. She is half-human."

Their blank stares and incredulous thoughts are disheartening, though it is what I had been prepared to expect. Carmen's generous nature, on the other hand, has given me the opportunity to voice an explanation – as far-fetched as it may seem – and I can only pray that she, at least, will heed my words.

"Hear me." I modulate my tone into the flowing, velvet speech of persuasion. "Renesmee is one of a kind." Listening to every thread of perception in their minds, I go on, using my gift to say whatever will convince them of the truth. "I am her father. Not her creator – her biological father."

_Impossible. This is madness. _Tanya shakes her head from side to side infinitesimally. Kate's thoughts are along a similar line, and Eleazar is no more encouraging, either.

"Edward," he begins, intensely skeptical, "you can't expect us to –"

"Tell me another explanation that fits, Eleazar," I challenge quietly. "You can feel the warmth of her body in the air." He tries to refute it in his mind, but I interrupt his musing with more truth. "Blood runs in her veins, Eleazar. You can smell it."

"How?" Kate demands in a hushed murmur. Her hand on the doorknob slackens its tense grip as she gazes, astounded, at Renesmee. _You hear all sorts of rumors after nine centuries of existence, but this…_

"Bella is her biological mother," I inform them, glancing at the captivating woman beside me, rubbing her shoulder gently with my hand. "She conceived, carried, and gave birth to Renesmee while she was still human. It nearly killed her." Flashes of Bella's gaunt, white face, swollen and bruised stomach, and her frail body arching over the table as her spine broke flit across my vision. Tightening my hold around her, I acknowledge to myself as well as to the others in the room, "I was hard-pressed to get enough venom into her heart to save her."

_So much regret, even now, _Carmen observes, filled with empathy. _It cannot be a lie – not if it causes him pain to speak of it._

Her mate's response is not quite so benevolent. "I've never heard of such a thing," Eleazar bites out critically, his expression ice-cold while maintaining his defensive stance in front of Carmen.

I purse my lips, hiding a smile – though there is nothing remotely humorous about the situation. "Physical relationships between vampires and humans are not common," I remark, shifting my gaze to the two fair-haired sisters who had given new meaning to the term 'succubus' in their early decades. "Human survivors of such trysts are even less common. Wouldn't you agree, cousins?" A hint of dark amusement colors my question, and both Kate and Tanya glower at me, their thoughts surly.

_No. No, it is not possible. _Obstinately, Eleazar refuses to accept what he is witnessing with his own eyes. _I would have heard – the Volturi would have had some knowledge of –_

"Come now, Eleazar," I cut off his internal consideration of what the Volturi may or may not know about a child like Renesmee and gesture with my free hand towards the little girl, her bronze curls shimmering faintly in the overhead light. "Surely you can see the resemblance."

It is at that moment that Carmen makes her decision, turning the odds in our favor. Her tawny eyes alight with wonder, she slips around Eleazar. He reaches out to grab her arm, muttering, _"¿Qué haces?"_ but she evades his grasp, creeping forward to stand directly in front of Bella. Then she bends down just a little, staring into Renesmee's huge, chocolate brown eyes, and her sense of wonder increases dramatically.

An image of Bella on our wedding day – dark eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed – races through Carmen's mind, and the comparison is instantly understood. "You seem to have your mother's eyes," she tells Renesmee in a kind, serene voice, and the little girl's face brightens hopefully, her tiny eyebrows arching high on her forehead, "but your father's face." Then, Carmen offers her a soft-lipped smile.

Beyond elated that there is someone among our visitors that is not afraid of her, Renesmee beams dazzlingly, an idea taking shape in her head. Peering avidly into Carmen's light ocher eyes, my daughter touches her mother's cheek, picturing her hand on the other woman's face. She is curious to know if it would be allowable for her to share her talent, which of course had been our goal all along.

Just above a whisper, Bella asks, "Do you mind if Renesmee tells you about it herself? She has a gift for explaining things."

Carmen's smile widens, and she tilts her head a bit to the side. "Do you speak, little one?"

"Yes," Renesmee trills in her pure soprano. Tanya, Kate, and Eleazar flinch at the sound, recognizing immediately that though it is the voice of a child, the maturity in the way her mouth shapes the word indicates that she is far more intelligent than she appears. Carmen is the only one that remains unaffected, still holding Renesmee's eyes as the little girl explains, "But I can show you more than I can tell you."

She places her small ivory hand on Carmen's pale olive-tone cheek.

At first there is darkness, and warmth, and Carmen twitches in surprise, her lips parting as she sucks in a startled breath. Swearing internally, Eleazar dashes to her side, clutching at her narrow shoulders and preparing to wrench her from Renesmee's feather-light touch.

"Wait," Carmen tells him, breathless, as the warm darkness is interspersed with a smattering of disembodied voices and feelings of comfort, safety, and love. Awed, I realize that Renesmee has started with her very earliest memories of her life – while she was still inside Bella's womb.

With Carmen, I watch as Renesmee replays the violent chaos of her birth, when she saw Jacob for the first time, me singing to her while we waited for Bella to wake up…seeing her mother again, every moment we have spent together as a family… Each facet of her unique existence is broadcast into Carmen's mind with crystalline clarity, as if she were living out these moments herself.

I do not know how much time has passed, but at some point I hear Jacob complain in a far corner of my awareness, his weight shifting on the hardwood floor. _Man, this is driving me nuts. I hate waiting._ He mumbles aloud, "What's Nessie showing her?"

"Everything," I reply, and then drift back into the current of Renesmee's narration.

Soon after, Renesmee concludes her story with a memory from this morning and lowers her hand, smiling at Carmen's open-mouthed expression.

The dark-haired vampire blinks, waking from her daze. _Dios mio…_ Her eyes dart upward, fixing on my intense stare, and she marvels, "She really is your daughter, isn't she? Such a vivid gift! It could only have come from a very gifted father."

She seems convinced, but I have to make absolutely certain. "Do you believe what she showed you?" I ask, attentive to the smallest inflection within her every thought, and I feel Bella tense under my arm.

Carmen nods once, undeniably sincere. "Without a doubt."

"Carmen!" Eleazar cries out, dismayed and worried that Renesmee might have done something to ensnare her mind.

Turning slowly, Carmen lifts his hands from her shoulders and holds them in her own, squeezing tenderly. "Impossible as it seems," she says in a gentle, confident voice, "Edward has told you nothing but truth." She raises one of his hands to her lips, kissing his knuckles, and his demeanor instantly softens. "Let the child show you," she encourages, and nudges Eleazar towards Renesmee, who is watching their exchange with the same bright grin on her cherubic face. "Show him, _mi querida,"_ Carmen tells her with a nod.

The little girl complies at once, putting her small fingers very lightly on Eleazar's forehead.

As soon as the vivid imagery engulfs his perception, he jerks away from her touch as though burned, exclaiming harshly, _"Ay caray!"_

"What did she do to you?" Tanya edges closer, her limbs tensed to recoil at the slightest hint of danger. Kate releases her grip on the doorknob and slowly mimics her sister's wary approach.

Eleazar is rigid with surprise, a flood of incoherent thoughts pervading his mind. Carmen strokes his cheek with the back of her hand, soothing, "She's just trying to show you her side of the story."

Impatient and a bit affronted, Renesmee frowns at him, her adorable scowl so reminiscent of her mother. "Watch, please," she orders, and holds out her hand, palm forward, a few inches from his face.

Eyeing her outstretched hand distrustfully, Eleazar then glances at Carmen, his gold eyes pleading for help. She nods, her expression openly kind, and Eleazar inhales a deep breath, willing to accept his mate's silent encouragement. He leans forward in wary anticipation and places his forehead beneath Renesmee's tiny, waiting palm.

A shudder ripples through him when the images resume, but he remains motionless, closing his eyes in concentration and absorbing every detail of her unusual tale. Several minutes pass, and his eyelids flicker as he murmurs with a sigh, "Ahh. I see." He looks into Renesmee's glittering brown eyes, scrutinizing her enchanting, vibrant smile, and finds himself grinning in return – though his is obviously more reluctant.

_What is going on here? _Tanya peeks around Carmen, trying to catch a glimpse of Eleazar's face. "Eleazar?" she asks, her gaze darting quickly at Renesmee, and is momentarily stunned by my daughter's delightful countenance.

Eleazar straightens, adjusting his footing to make way for Tanya, and proclaims, "It's all true, Tanya." As with Carmen, I find no traces of misgiving in his mind. "This is no immortal child. She's half-human. Come," he offers, placing his hand gently on Tanya's back to usher her forward. "See for yourself."

Obligingly, Renesmee repeats her account with both Tanya and Kate, and just like the other two members of their family, the sisters immediately believe the truth of Renesmee's existence. "Simply amazing," Tanya breathes in awe, studying the little girl's face with new eyes.

"She looks almost exactly like you, Edward," Kate remarks, gingerly touching Renesmee's bronze-colored ringlets with her fingertips.

"Except for the eyes." Tanya grins broadly at Renesmee, and is inordinately pleased when she returns the gesture.

While they coo over our daughter, Bella glances up at me, her stare questioning and guarded. My lips twitch into the shadow of a reassuring smile, and I squeeze her shoulders tenderly. "Thank you for listening," I say to my cousins in a low, quiet voice.

Tanya looks over at me, the coldness now totally absent from her amber eyes. _Now: to business, _she asserts inwardly, and says aloud, "But there is the_ grave danger _you warned us of. Not directly from this child, I see, but surely from the Volturi, then." Her mouth tightens, remembering again when they came for her mother. "How did they find out about her?" she asks somberly. "When are they coming?"

I do not relish having to tell her and Kate about their sister's actions; after all, I know all too well what it feels like to be betrayed by a beloved sibling. Hardening my heart against the pain that surfaces whenever I think of my lost sister, I answer, "When Bella saw Irina that day in the mountains, she had Renesmee with her."

Tanya blanches, her expression twisted in dismay, and Kate lets out a muted growl, her eyes narrowing. _"Irina_ did this?" she hisses dangerously. "To you? To Carlisle? _Irina?" She has gone too far this time, _Kate vows to herself, the gold of her irises sparking with fury.

"No," Tanya whispers, her gaze faraway. _She's had her differences with Carlisle and the others…but she would never… _"Someone else…" Her words fade into silence, and sorrow clouds her thoughts.

Wincing just slightly as I speak the name, I reply dully, "Alice saw her go to them."

"How could she do this thing?" Eleazar stares, glassy-eyed, at nothing, his mind racing with dread. _Irina has acted rashly before – but to turn completely against her family…? Has she no sense of loyalty at all?_

"Imagine if you had seen Renesmee only from a distance." Though I have no desire to defend Irina, logically, any vampire in her position, and with her history, would have behaved in the same manner.  
Even Tanya or Kate… I gaze at each of them in turn, my expression bleak. It could easily have been either one of these sisters standing in front of Aro, using her knowledge to damn us. "If you had not waited for our explanation."

_Never, _Tanya snarls, the declaration echoing in my head. Tightening her eyes, her hands clench into fists at her sides as she states, her words clipped, "No matter what she thought…"_ No matter how we have disproved our allegiance in the past, _"You are our family." Her face is almost ferocious in the intensity of her emotions; it is impossible to doubt her devotion to us and whatever we may need from her and her coven.

"There's nothing we can do about Irina's choice now," I inform them grimly. "It's too late. Alice gave us a month."

Confusion flutters through their minds. Kate's pale eyebrows come together as she frowns, and Tanya slants her head to one side, perplexed. "So long?" Eleazar questions, his forehead lined with deep creases as he ponders the likely reasons for the Volturi's delay.

"They are all coming." My chest begins to rumble with a growl, the muscles in my body constricting as though readying for a fight, and cynicism laces into my words as I remark, "That must take some preparation." Gritting my teeth, I swallow back the growl, but my limbs refuse to loosen from their combative stance.

Eleazar gasps, visibly taken aback. "The entire guard?"

I feel my jaw bunching as I struggle to keep my voice even. "Not just the guards. Aro, Caius, Marcus. Even the wives."

As that realization takes root, a crippling surge of shock blankets each of the Denali vampires, and after a half-second of icy silence, Eleazar murmurs, aghast, "Impossible."

In a wry tone, I respond, "I would have said the same two days ago."

Scowling, he folds his arms across his body. "But that doesn't make any sense. Why would they put themselves and the wives in danger?"

"It doesn't make sense from that angle," I agree, and then exhale quietly, raking my free hand through my hair. "Alice said there was more to this than just punishment for what they think we've done." Peering at him in speculation, I convey the rest of her cryptic advice. "She thought you could help us."

"More than punishment?" Eleazar drops his gaze to the floor, his mind being pulled in a dozen different directions as he mulls everything over. "But what else is there?" Absentminded, he begins to pace the length of the cavernous room, the scowl permanently etched on his features. His thoughts are so chaotic that I withdraw a bit, not wishing to become lost in the tumult as well.

Tanya seems to take no notice of Eleazar's agitated pacing. Eyes locked on me, she asks, "Where are the others, Edward? Carlisle and Alice and the rest?"

I hesitate to answer for the briefest moment – quicker than the blink of an eye – and then give a vague, mostly accurate reply. "Looking for friends who might help us."

Holding her upturned palms out in front of her in a gesture of deference, Tanya says earnestly, "Edward, no matter how many friends you gather, we can't help you _win._ We can only die with you. You must know that. Of course," her expression contorts in self-loathing, "perhaps the four of us deserve that after what Irina has done now, after how we've failed you in the past – for her sake that time as well." In her thoughts, I clearly see her solemn acquiescence of the same fate decreed for my family.

I swiftly shake my head, rejecting her wordless offer of sacrifice. "We're not asking you to fight and die with us, Tanya," I tell her with quiet firmness. "You know Carlisle would never ask for that."

My father's inner lament from the morning after Alice's desertion haunts the fringes of my perception. _I cannot bear to have any more lives on my conscience._

"Then what, Edward?" _Whatever it is you need from us, you have it. Unconditionally._

"We're just looking for witnesses," I assure all of them, though I am mostly addressing Tanya. Her persistence in seeking redemption for a deed that has already been forgiven could become a problem. I will have to make a few details of our strategy very plain. "If we can make them pause, just for a moment." My tone becomes wistful as my attention shifts to the infinitely precious child in Bella's arms. "If they would let us explain…" I caress Renesmee's cheek softly with my fingertips.

Fiercely, her expression blazing with affection, Renesmee grabs my hand and presses it to her face. I see myself reflected back from her mind and in her shimmering eyes, accompanied by her mental declaration: _I love you, Daddy._ And she leans into my palm, the heat of her skin melting some of the ice from my heart.

"It's difficult to doubt our story when you see it for yourself," I murmur, the words rough with emotion.

Nodding thoughtfully, Tanya remarks, "Do you think her past will matter to them so much?"

I pull my eyes from Renesmee to look at the strawberry-blonde vampire, answering, "Only as it foreshadows her future. The point of the restriction was to protect us from exposure, from the excesses of children who could not be tamed." Which does not apply to my daughter at all. A child that had been made into a vampire was frozen in the same state as when they were human; there was no growth, no method of teaching a mind that would never fully mature. Renesmee continues to learn with each passing day, developing intellectually as well as physically, and it is only a matter of time until she reaches adulthood.

Almost as if she senses the flow of my thoughts, Renesmee pipes up, "I'm not dangerous at all." The silvery bell-like chime of her high voice fills the sudden quiet. "I never hurt Grandpa or Sue or Billy. I love humans." A tiny smile brightens her deep, clear eyes as she adds, "And wolf-people like my Jacob." She lets go of my hand and reaches around Bella's shoulder to pat Jacob on his forearm. He starts a little at the contact, having been lost in thought, but then gives her a quick grin.

Kate and Tanya glance at one another. _'My Jacob'? What on earth does that mean? _Kate quirks an eyebrow, confusion in her topaz eyes.

_Edward did say that their truce with the wolves was stronger than ever… _Quick on the draw, as always, Tanya guesses, _Could the child have something to do with it?_

Best to move on with my explanation before their conjecture becomes more…public. I am not quite ready to disclose that my four-month old daughter is the object of a werewolf's imprint and is therefore now the center of his universe, the reason for his existence. It would generate_ far_ too many uncomfortable conversations, not to mention the relentless teasing that both sisters have a fondness for whenever I am near. I had my fill of their good-humored needling at the wedding reception.

"If Irina had not come so soon," I reflect aloud, "we could have avoided all of this. Renesmee grows at an unprecedented rate. By the time the month is past, she'll have gained another half year of development."

Diverting her attention from her mate's ceaseless pacing, Carmen lifts her chin in a decisive way, stating, "Well, that is something we can certainly witness. We'll be able to promise that we've seen her mature ourselves. How could the Volturi ignore such evidence?"

Eleazar mumbles under his breath, "How indeed?" His mind is still churning, trying to uncover the information that Alice said he would have in regard to the Volturi's strategy, and the response was more automatic than having to do with him actually paying attention to our discussion.

"Yes, we can witness for you," Tanya agrees, ignoring Eleazar for the moment. "Certainly that much." A strange, vibrant light enters her tawny gaze, sending prickles of unease down my spine – which intensify as I hear her thoughts. _Kate's talent alone gives us an edge; we have much to make up for…and I am sure the others would agree… _"We will consider what more we might do," she says softly, but her remark is saturated with purpose, and a tenacity that would rival even Rosalie's pigheadedness.

"Tanya," I pronounce her name as a veiled warning, "we don't expect you to fight with us."

She meets my stern glare undaunted. _This is_ my_ choice, Edward, not yours, _she protests inwardly, and then says out loud, "If the Volturi won't pause to listen to our witness, we cannot simply stand by. Of course, I should only speak for myself." Her gaze flashes around the room, to the faces of her family.

Tossing back her pale gold hair, Kate snorts, cocking her hips as she places her hands on them in playful sarcasm. "Do you really doubt me so much, sister?"

Tanya smiles, her teeth gleaming a brilliant white, and raises her eyebrows in mock-seriousness. "It_ is_ a suicide mission, after all," she reminds Kate.

Kate grins, and then shrugs in obvious nonchalance. "I'm in." _Good thing I've been practicing… _Her memory awakens with images of former kills that she has used her singular ability on and I pull away, having no desire to see any further proof of her competence in a fight.

Laying a slim hand over her heart, Carmen pledges with frank sincerity, "I, too, will do what I can to protect the child." She looks down at Renesmee, the longing apparent in her ocher eyes, and tentatively opens her arms. "May I hold you, _bebé linda?"_ she appeals.

Practically bursting with excitement, Renesmee stretches out her tiny arms with a wide smile, and Carmen pulls her close, telling her how beautiful and special she is in Spanish. Renesmee cannot understand a word of it – at least not yet – but the lilting melody of the dark-haired vampire's native tongue is pleasing to the little girl. She lightly strokes Carmen's inky black tresses with her hand as she listens to her words.

As I watch the two of them, I realize that Renesmee has an innocent charm that is completely irresistible. Like magic, she wove her spell first around Bella, Rosalie, and eventually myself before she was even born. And when she arrived, she then proceeded to enchant my entire family, Charlie, and just about anyone else she has met.

While four witnesses is not nearly enough to halt the Volturi's advance, it is a place to start. My only hope, as I take in Bella's suddenly troubled expression, is that we do not condemn our friends to their deaths by asking them to stand with us. I already have a monumental body count tallied up from my century of existence; the scales of justice are weighed against me, despite the counterpoint of my attempts to live righteously.

The low, passionate voice of my wife echoes within my skull, repeating her promise from last night._ "We're in this together now – and that means wherever I go, you're coming with me."_

I will cling to that promise, and to my angel, until I am nothing more than a pile of ashes.

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**Author's Note:** The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 572-593.

Translations: '_Matka'_ is Slovak for 'mother' (according to the _Twilight Lexicon,_ Tanya and her sisters are originally from Slovakia). And the Spanish phrases I added – _'¿qué haces?'_ means 'what are you doing?' and _'dios mio'_ is 'my God'.

I would deeply appreciate it if you would take a minute or two to leave a review. I value your opinion. Thank you!


	12. Talented

**Chapter Notes:** This chapter is a bit shorter than the previous, since it's more of a continuation of the interaction with the Denali family.

Enjoy!

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Near the windows, Tanya abruptly spins around in a pool of sunlight – multicolored sparkles flash across the wall and hardwood floor – and her eyes dart over to Jacob. "What is the werewolves' part in this?" she asks.

I do not know if she meant for me to answer her question, but Jacob speaks up before I can even draw a breath. "If the Volturi won't stop to listen about Nessie, I mean Renesmee," he corrects himself quickly – Tanya quirks an eyebrow ever so slightly – and then he goes on, _"we_ will stop them."

Patronizing and a bit amused, Tanya replies, "Very brave, child, but that would be impossible for more experienced fighters than you are." A hint of a smirk lifts one corner of her mouth. _Imagine: a pack of overgrown dogs routing the entire Volturi guard. _The smirk becomes more pronounced as she eyes Jacob's thickly muscled form, offset by his still-youthful face. _Such delusions of grandeur for one so young._

"You don't know what we can do," he retorts, irked by the fact that she had called him _'child' _when his physical age is greater than his seventeen years of life by almost a decade.

She shrugs, oblivious to – or preferring to ignore – his annoyance. "It is your own life, certainly," she says nonchalantly, "to spend as you choose."

Jacob's black-brown gaze flits at once to Renesmee, watching as Carmen and Kate fawn over the little girl. _She_ is_ my life, _he murmurs to himself. There is no mistaking the deep longing and adoration in his expression, and Tanya immediately puts two and two together.

_He has a bond with the girl; that much is certain,_ she muses shrewdly. _I wonder how Edward feels about that…_ She eyes my face for a brief moment, and I smother a grimace. Apparently, I will not be able to escape her relentless teasing during this visit either. But instead of openly addressing the subject, Tanya turns her attention back to Jacob and comments in a softer voice, "She is special, that little one." Her head tilts slightly toward Renesmee. "Hard to resist."

"A very talented family," Eleazar mutters. His pacing has continued for a while, and now his gait is so fast that the edges of his body are somewhat blurred as he repeatedly walks the distance between Carmen and the front door. Thinking out loud, he recounts under his breath, "A mind reader for a father, a shield for a mother, and then whatever magic this extraordinary child has bewitched us with." A jolt of insight electrifies my brain and I twitch a little in surprise, my eyes widening. Engrossed by his own thoughts, Eleazar remarks, "I wonder if there is a name for what she does, or if it is the norm for a vampire hybrid." He snorts. "As if such a thing could ever be considered normal! A vampire hybrid, indeed!" The noise that erupts from his throat sounds like another snort, mixed with an incredulous chuckle.

"Excuse me." My voice quivers in astonishment, and despite the stunned haze permeating my mind, I catch Eleazar by the shoulder, halting him in mid-step. "What did you just call my wife?"

His scowl dissipates as curiosity flares in his golden eyes. _He doesn't know? _"A shield, I _think,"_ he replies, his lips twisting a bit in uncertainty. "She's blocking me now, so I can't be sure." He shoots Bella a half-frustrated, half-confused glance. She, in turn, furrows her brow as she meets his stare, clearly puzzled by his statement.

I hear and understand his words, yet I cannot seem to string them all together, comprehend their meaning, in my head. Stupidly, I repeat, "A shield?"

Eleazar throws up his hands in frustration. "Come now, Edward!" he exclaims. "If I can't get a read on her, I doubt you can, either. Can you hear her thoughts right now?" He stabs a finger in Bella's direction.

To be able to see into Bella's mind…would be the most profound, erotic experience of my life. But, to my everlasting dissatisfaction, "No," I tell him quietly. "But I've never been able to do that." Gazing sidelong at my wife, a wistful smile flickers across my lips. "Even when she was human." On more than one occasion, I had thought that the burning curiosity would reduce me to ashes – or drive me mad – every time I tried to dissect her facial expressions in order to figure out what she was thinking. Would I have found her as interesting, as alluring, if I could hear her mind?

…_Yes._ Absolutely, yes.

"Never?" Eleazar blinks, surprised. "Interesting. That would indicate a rather powerful latent talent, if it was manifesting so clearly even before the transformation." His eyes narrow slightly in concentration. "I can't feel a way through her shield to get a sense of it at all. Yet she must be raw still – she's only a few months old." Then, he gives me an exasperated glare. "And apparently completely unaware of what she's doing. Totally unconscious. Ironic. Aro sent me all over the world searching for such anomalies, and you simply stumble across it by accident and don't even realize what you have." Shaking his head in disbelief, he ponders inwardly, _An accidental discovery, perhaps…but the irony of a mind reader choosing a mate whose mind is blank to him is almost fitting._

I consider it poetic justice for all those years I spent as a vigilante – seeking out the guilty through the use of my gift – that the one mind I would give anything to hear just once is closed to me.

But 'fitting' is a fairly accurate definition, all the same.

A deep frown pulls down the corners of Bella's full lips, a little V creasing the skin between her eyebrows, and she asks Eleazar, "What are you talking about? How can I be a _shield?"_ Her nose wrinkles as she says the word. "What does that even mean?"

Wondering where to start, Eleazar tilts his head to the right, regarding her thoughtfully. "I suppose we were overly formal about it in the guard," he begins. "In truth, categorizing talents is a subjective, haphazard business; every talent is unique, never exactly the same thing twice. But you, Bella, are fairly easy to classify." He folds his arms casually over his chest, explaining, "Talents that are purely defensive, that protect some aspect of the bearer, are always called _shields._ Have you ever tested your abilities? Blocked anyone besides me and your mate?" The curiosity resurfaces in his tawny eyes while he waits for her reply.

Bella blinks rapidly, bewildered by his description. Looking aside for a second or so, she flattens her lips – an outward sign that she is thinking – and then raises her eyes. "It only works with certain things," she remarks in a slow, introspective tone. "My head is sort of…private. But it doesn't stop Jasper from being able to mess with my mood or Alice from seeing my future."

_Hmm…_ Eleazar cups his chin in his palm and nods to himself. "Purely a mental defense. Limited, but strong." _Stronger than most I have seen. _A flickering image of a petite, dark-haired woman enters his mind and, recognizing her face, I sense the need to add a little more clarification.

"Aro couldn't hear her," I tell him, full of quiet pride. "Though she was human when they met." I will never forget the baffled look on the ancient vampire's white, papery-skinned face when he found that he was unable to breach the walls surrounding Bella's mind. It was priceless.

Eleazar's eyes widen. _Madre de Dios…_ he stutters internally. _He could not hear her at all? _I shake my head the tiniest bit. He lapses back into Spanish, rambling on and on in amazement.

"Jane tried to hurt me, but she couldn't," Bella inserts, studying Eleazar's open-mouthed expression and my faint, undoubtedly smug grin. "Edward thinks Demetri can't find me, and that Alec can't bother me, either." When his gawking eyes grow even wider, she asks timidly, "Is that good?"

"Quite," he mumbles, his head bobbing up and down.

It all makes perfect sense to me. The pride I feel in my wife's ability swells inside my chest, and I announce, satisfaction coating every word, "A shield! I never thought of it that way. The only one I've ever met before was Renata, and what she did was so different." Indeed, the meek-looking Italian vampire has a very straightforward talent, and it was my opinion at the time we were introduced – in the broadest sense of the term – that Renata's gift could have easily been born from her evasive personality.

Recovering from his shock, Eleazar says, his thoughts still a bit dazed, "Yes, no talent ever manifests in precisely the same way, because no one ever_ thinks_ in exactly the same way."

"Who's Renata?" Bella peers avidly at each of us in turn. "What does she do?"

Hearing her mother's inquiry, and also attentive to our conversation, Renesmee leans away from Carmen to see around Kate, her eyes bright with interest.

"Renata is Aro's personal bodyguard," Eleazar answers before I can. "A very practical kind of shield, and a very strong one." _But compared to what she is doing – unconsciously, even – _"I wonder…" he considers aloud. "You see, Renata is a powerful shield against a physical attack. If someone approaches her – or Aro, as she is always close beside him in a hostile situation – they find themselves…diverted." He gestures vaguely with a hand as he explains, "There's a force around her that repels, though it's almost unnoticeable. You simply find yourself going in a different direction than you planned, with a confused memory as to why you wanted to go that other way in the first place. She can project her shield several meters out from herself. She also protects Caius and Marcus, too, when they have a need, but Aro is her priority."

He then seems to measure Bella with a serious gaze, a hypothetical scenario rising to the forefront of his mind – and I must confess that I, too, share in his curiosity.

"What she does isn't actually physical, though," Eleazar resumes. "Like the vast majority of our gifts, it takes place inside the mind. If she tried to keep_ you_ back," a faint smile flits across his mouth, "I wonder who would win?" Shaking his head, amazement creeps back into his tone as he murmurs, "I've never heard of Aro's or Jane's gifts being thwarted."

As if it is perfectly obvious, Renesmee says in her high, silvery voice, "Momma, you're special."

Wearing the most adorably bewildered expression, Bella stares first at our daughter, and then at me, a myriad of questions swirling inside her wide scarlet eyes. I wonder if she is thinking back to the discussion Carlisle and I had in regard to her surprising self-control. My father had felt fairly certain that her ability to exhibit such restraint could be attributed to something above the norm – but I believe that she was simply better prepared than any other newborn, and her trademark stubbornness kept her from falling prey to her vampire instincts.

Now that Eleazar has categorized what she can do, it should have been apparent from the very beginning.

_A shield, _I marvel again to myself, a wry grin curving my lips.

Kate skirts around Carmen and Renesmee, her keen ocher eyes on Bella, and asks, "Can you project?"

"Project?" Bella stares, perplexed, at the blonde vampire.

"Push it out from yourself," Kate clarifies, taking another step closer. "Shield someone besides yourself." _If she could…it would be a formidable asset, indeed._ Her expression brightens with interest as she reflects on that thought, but Bella's talent is still raw. It will take her some time before she can effectively define the limitations of her shield.

Bella shrugs helplessly. "I don't know. I've never tried." She glances over at me again, as if she is searching for confirmation. "I didn't know I should do that," she admits, embarrassed.

"Oh, you might not be able to," Kate replies quickly. She flips her pin-straight cornsilk tresses in a casual manner and says, "Heaven knows I've been working on it for centuries and the best I can do is run a current over my skin." She rolls her eyes, hearing the whine in her own voice, and smirks at Tanya.

Completely baffled, Bella only gazes uncomprehending at Kate. I come to her aid by murmuring a brief explanation. "Kate's got an offensive skill. Sort of like Jane." It is the most familiar comparison that I can draw in describing my cousin's atypical talent – but probably not the best choice, given Bella's previous encounters with the Volturi's prime assassin.

Once that name leaves my mouth, Bella inhales a sharp breath and recoils, her eyes rounded in shock. Kate laughs, the sound lighthearted, and it brightens the suddenly tense atmosphere. "I'm not sadistic about it," she tells Bella with a smile. "It's just something that comes in handy during a fight."

The shock drains from Bella's crimson irises, her body relaxing, and then her expression becomes distant, flickers of several unknown thoughts dancing across her pale features. Without warning, she gasps, latching onto Kate's forearm as she cries out, "You have to teach me what to do!" Her fingers constrict in tandem with her almost desperate insistence. "You have to show me how!"

Reacting instinctively, Kate winces in response to Bella's painful grip and her power erupts, causing a fizzle of energy to skitter along her arm. My muscles tense, anticipating that my wife will experience the burning jolt and crumple to the ground – but common sense catches up with my subconscious a half second later while Kate grumbles, "Maybe – if you stop trying to crush my radius." She struggles vainly to release herself from Bella's hold, the ends of her golden locks crackling with static electricity.

"Oops! Sorry!" Mortified, Bella drops her hand.

Kate twists her wrist from side to side, rotating the bones in her forearm, and then shakes her hand, dismissing the ache still registering in her nerves. _Newborns…_she complains inwardly. Eyeing the shamed brunette fidgeting in front of her, Kate remarks in a sullen tone, "You're shielding, all right. That move should have about shocked your arm off. You didn't feel anything just now?"

Disgruntled by her blasé attitude in regard to hurting my Bella, I mutter crossly, "That wasn't really necessary, Kate. She didn't mean any harm."

_Oh, keep your shirt on, Edward. _She raises an eyebrow in mild sarcasm, looking at me from the corner of her eye._ Bella's fine. I couldn't really control it anyway – it was pure instinct._

Not surprisingly, Bella ignores my comment. "No, I didn't feel anything," she answers. "Were you doing your electric-current thing?"

"I was. Hmm." Crossing her arms, Kate tips her head to one side, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "I've never met anyone who couldn't feel it, immortal or otherwise."

Avid for information, Bella leans forward, her ruby-colored eyes gleaming with interest. "You said you project it? On your skin?" she asks.

Kate nods. "It used to be just in my palms. Kind of like Aro_." Great, now_ I'm_ comparing myself to the Volturi, _she thinks sourly.

To ease both of their minds, I insert quietly, "Or Renesmee."

"But after a lot of practice," Kate resumes, encouraged by Bella's attentiveness, "I can radiate the current all over my body. It's a good defense. Anyone who tries to touch me drops like a human that's been Tasered. It only downs him for a second, but that's long enough," she concludes, grimly pleased.

Abruptly, I am pulled from their conversation by the change of direction in Eleazar's thoughts. Memories are racing, unchecked, through his mind, and he reasserts to himself that_ …the pattern remains the same._ He becomes more agitated after that, and I step closer to him, listening intently to his inner monologue. When his line of thinking evolves into a plausible theory, his eyes flash up to meet mine, the amber irises darkening with reluctance and dismay. _No, _he argues. _No, that cannot be right. I don't want to think of them that way. That would mean that…what I've done for them…_

"Can you think of even one exception, though?" I contend, narrowing my gaze in suspicion.

The room around us has grown utterly silent; every occupant is focused on Eleazar and myself.

Gritting his teeth, Eleazar repeats aloud, "I don't want to think of them that way." _I helped them accomplish this. I was such a fool – blinded by good intentions and a code of ethics that Aro exploited for his own use, just as he did with my gift. _Shaking his head very slightly, as if to banish that self-condemning thought, he starts to speak. "If you're right –"

"The thought was yours, not mine," I interrupt. Truly, I sympathize with his plight – but he has to face his past if we are to gain any advantage in the impending confrontation.

"If_ I'm_ right…" He sighs, frustrated. "I can't even grasp what that would mean. It would change everything about the world we've created." His face contorts, reflecting the anguish in his mind, the chaos of his thoughts. "It would change the meaning of my life. What I have been a part of," he adds nearly inaudibly.

I allow my stare to soften a little. "Your intentions were always the best, Eleazar."

"Would that even matter?" he argues back. Deeply troubled, he rakes a hand through his short black hair, his eyelids falling shut in agony. "What have I done? So many lives…" His voice dies, and he covers his face with that same hand, his memories continuing to torment him.

Tanya flits over, laying her small palm on Eleazar's shoulder comfortingly. "What did we miss, my friend?" she inquires in a gentle tone. "I want to know so that I can argue with these thoughts. You've never done anything worth castigating yourself this way." She squeezes his shoulder. Carmen, her tawny eyes filled with concern, watches her mate's hunched form, debating whether or not to approach.

Eleazar lets out a short puff of air. "Oh, haven't I?" he mumbles under his breath, his low voice infused with cynicism. Jerking his shoulder out from under Tanya's hand, he begins to pace again, the motion faster and more aggressive than before.

For a portion of a second, Tanya follows him with her gaze – then she turns to me, her features tight in apprehension. "Explain."

Nodding once, I remain attentive to Eleazar's thoughts while tracking his movements, and begin to speak. "He was trying to understand why so many of the Volturi would come to punish us. It's not the way they do things. Certainly, we are the biggest mature coven they've dealt with, but in the past other covens have joined to protect themselves, and they never presented much of a challenge despite their numbers. We are more closely bonded," I remark quietly, "and that's a factor, but not a huge one."

"He was remembering other times that covens have been punished, for one thing or the other, and a pattern occurred to him." The images start to resurface within his mind, but Eleazar does not dwell on one in particular. Each memory leaves a fleeting impression in his thoughts, almost like a photograph, and I go on with my explanation. "It was a pattern that the rest of the guard would never have noticed, since Eleazar was the one passing the pertinent intelligence privately to Aro. A pattern that only repeated every other century or so." And it is coming in to play right now.

Carmen asks, though her attention is centered on Eleazar, "What was this pattern?"

"Aro does not often personally attend a punishing expedition." My lips quiver, threatening to pull back over my teeth and form a snarl. I take in a quick breath, striving for a levelheaded perspective. "But in the past, when Aro wanted something in particular, it was never long before evidence turned up proving that this coven or that coven has committed some unpardonable crime," I inform everyone in a solemn tone. "The ancients would decide to go along to watch the guard administer justice. And then, once the coven was all but destroyed, Aro would grant a pardon to one member whose thoughts, he would claim, were particularly repentant. Always," a thick layer of scorn covers my words, "it would turn out that this vampire had the gift Aro had admired. Always, this person was given a place with the guard. The gifted vampire was won over quickly, always so grateful for the honor. There were no exceptions."

Broodingly, Kate mulls over what she has learned, her thoughts growing dark. _To watch your entire coven slaughtered before your eyes…only to find that you alone have been spared – to join the most powerful group of vampires in the world… _"It must be a heady thing to be chosen," she implies in a dull monotone.

"Ha!" Eleazar's outburst is punctuated by a snarl. He has not ceased in his rapid pacing, and as he flashes past me for the umpteenth time, he mutters a single word – a name – so low that even I can barely make it out. "Chelsea."

Both Tanya and Kate are impatient, waiting for me to give them a reason for Eleazar's rare show of temper, and I can feel a pair of well-known bright eyes heating the side of my face. "There is one among the guard," I murmur slowly. The hesitation in my voice causes a spike of worry to pierce through Tanya's mind, and I go on at once. "Her name is Chelsea. She has influence over the emotional ties between people. She can both loosen and secure these ties. She could make someone feel bonded to the Volturi, to want to belong, to want to_ please_ them…" I trail off, disgust and anxiety warring inside my heart as I remember when Aro had considered – however fleetingly – having Chelsea use her gift on _me._ But by then, it was too late. Bella was with me again, and the bond between us is too strong for her to manipulate.

As though his legs have turned to stone, Eleazar abruptly halts, and spins to face the others in the room. "We all understood why Chelsea was important. In a fight, if we could separate allegiances between allied covens, we could defeat them that much more easily," he tells us. "If we could distance the innocent members of a coven emotionally from the guilty, justice could be done without unnecessary brutality – the guilty could be punished without interference, and the innocent could be spared. Otherwise, it was impossible to keep the coven from fighting as a whole." His sharp-edged features harden, his voice becoming as cold as ice, and then he says, "So Chelsea would break the ties that bound them together. It seemed a great kindness to me, evidence of Aro's mercy. I did suspect that Chelsea kept our own band more tightly knit, but that, too, was a good thing. It made us more effective. It helped us coexist more easily." He scoffs inwardly, yet again calling himself every type of fool for not seeing the motivation behind these so-called punishments.

Tanya stiffens, her pale limbs and the muscles shaping her white skin flexing with stress. On edge, she asks intently, "How strong is her gift?" Then her keen golden eyes dart to each member of her family, half-afraid of the answer that she will receive.

Shrugging faintly, Eleazar replies, "I was able to leave with Carmen." He shakes his head an instant later, his mouth set in a grim line. "But anything weaker than the bond between partners is in danger. In a normal coven, at least. Those are weaker bonds than those in our family, though. Abstaining from human blood makes us more civilized – lets us form true bonds of love." He looks at Tanya, his expression mellowing a little, and states with certainty, "I doubt she could turn our allegiances, Tanya." _But she will most definitely try, _he adds darkly, and catches my eye. Tanya inclines her head, reassured by his declaration.

"I could only think that the reason Aro had decided to come himself," Eleazar resumes, "to bring so many with him, is because his goal is not punishment but acquisition."

Involuntarily, my hand contracts into a white-knuckled fist at my side. I had known this already of course, having heard it through my cousin's thoughts, but still the very idea of anyone in my family being chained to the Volturi is enough to rouse the monster lurking in the dark places of my spirit.

While he growls to life in the back of my head, Eleazar remarks, "He needs to be there to control the situation. But he needs the entire guard for protection from such a large, gifted coven. On the other hand," he holds up a finger, "that leaves the other ancients unprotected in Volterra. Too risky – someone might try to take advantage. How else could he be sure to preserve the gifts that he wants?" Arching his dark eyebrows, he muses quietly, "He must want them very badly."

Against my will, my intuition summons an image of a pixie-like face crowned by a halo of black hair. The Alice in my imagination stares back with earnest topaz eyes, a secretive sort of smile playing along the corners of her mouth, and her last words to me echo dimly in my ears. _I'm sorry, Edward._

I had been so ready to think the worst of my sister that I completely ignored the obvious facts. Aro had taken a keen interest in her ability to foresee the future after he heard my thoughts, and that interest is now bordering on obsession.

Could that be the reason why she left us? Had she seen another piece of the Volturi's plan – one that involved her surrender to Aro?

My chest tightens, and I breathe out in less than a whisper, "From what I saw of his thoughts last spring, Aro's never wanted anything more than he wants Alice." My gaze focuses on Bella as I speak, wanting to see her reaction…but also needing to look into her exquisite eyes, to draw strength from her in order to beat back the swiftly rising tide of grief welling up inside my body.

Her full lips part in shock, the scarlet of her irises blazing with horror, and I can sense that she is forming the connection in her head as the seconds pass. She turns toward me; my heart squeezes in anguish at the frightened, distraught expression on her face. "Is that why Alice left?" she asks, her voice hitching around the syllables of our sister's name.

Tenderly, I reach out and cup Bella's cheek in my palm, blocking the disturbed uproar of thought emanating from the Denali family. "I think it must be," I tell her softly. "To keep Aro from gaining the thing he wants most of all. To keep her power out of his hands." Looking at it from that perspective, it seems far easier to believe that Alice went away in order to deny Aro his chance to control her rather than her and Jasper abandoning us simply for their own self-preservation.

Kate and Tanya are muttering to one another in the background, their voices quick and troubled. For the moment I pay them no mind, and watch in growing dismay as Bella's eyes widen, her fright evolving into acute terror. In a small, broken whisper, she utters, "He wants you, too."

I arrange my features into a calm mask, hoping to allay her fear. I had told both her and Alice after the debacle in Italy that Aro had dwelt on the possibility of recruiting my sister and I to his guard. _'Virtual omniscience'_ is what I had called it – the present and the future, laid bare for him to see and bend to his will.

Bella is still staring up at me, rendered motionless by dread, and I smooth my thumb across the apple of her cheek, shrugging my shoulders indifferently. "Not nearly as much. I can't really give him anything more than he already knows." Which is true; the main reason he wants access to my gift is because it is – as he put it – 'convenient'. "And of course that's dependant on his finding a way to force me to do his will," I remark, injecting a fair amount of skepticism in my tone. "He knows me, and he knows how unlikely that is."

Raising an eyebrow derisively, I tell myself that there is nothing Aro could do that would compel me to serve him… but a tiny voice admonishes in my ear that there is_ one_ thing – one_ person_ – in my existence that I would do anything for, no matter what it cost me.

_Do not treat this so lightly, Edward. Arrogance is a folly that none of us can afford. _Eleazar glares at me, frowning, and then he states pointedly, "He also knows your weakness." With deliberate slowness, he shifts his gaze to the precious woman standing in front of me. Bella meets his eyes, unnerved, her face still cradled in my hand. _Aro's seen your mind, _Eleazar reminds me grimly, his internal voice sharp and cold._ He knows that you cannot live without her. For someone with his influence, it would be all too easy to trap you by using Bella. Just one compelling threat, and you would do whatever he asks –_

"It's nothing we need to discuss now." I cut off his line of thought, warning him with my eyes to drop this subject. My fingers tighten imperceptibly against Bella's skin, and I see her vivid stare dart to my face, no doubt measuring my blank expression against the underlying steel in my tone.

Eleazar dismisses my ominous intimation and goes on, suggesting, "He probably wants your mate, too, regardless. He must have been intrigued by a talent that could defy him in its human incarnation."

My jaw clenches, and I lower my gaze. As uncomfortable as I am with his presumption…he is correct. Aro was fascinated by Bella's unique ability to resist any vampire's talent relating to the mind. And my cousin also hit it on the mark when he spoke of the means Aro would employ to coerce me into obeying him; all he would have to do is threaten my Bella and I would submit.

She alters her stance subtly, drawing my attention, and while I take in her expression I realize that she is just as ill at ease as I am. Bella is perceptive enough to know that we are each other's greatest strength and greatest weakness. As I would sacrifice my free will for her, so she would do the same for me.

Frustrated with my own morbid thinking, I divert the course of our conversation. "I think the Volturi were waiting for this – for some pretext. They couldn't know what form their excuse would come in, but the plan was already in place for when it did come." My tone rings with sudden insight as I observe, "That's why Alice saw their decision before Irina triggered it. The decision was already made, just waiting for the pretense of a justification."

Carmen steps forward; Renesmee adjusts her position in the circle of the Hispanic vampire's arms to see everyone. "If the Volturi are abusing the trust all immortals have placed in them…" Carmen's lilting voice is filled with righteous anger.

"Does it matter?" Eleazar asks, not really expecting an answer. "Who would believe it? And even if others could be convinced that the Volturi are exploiting their power, how would it make any difference? No one can stand against them." He dashes over to Carmen, subconsciously needing her closeness, and Renesmee studies him briefly with clear chocolate brown eyes.

Chuckling humorlessly inside her mind, Kate mentions under her breath, "Though some of us are apparently insane enough to try."

She is as incorrigible as her sister. Biting back an exasperated retort, I shake my head and reiterate, "You're only here to witness, Kate. Whatever Aro's goal, I don't think he's ready to tarnish the Volturi's reputation for it." He will not want to risk losing his coven's superiority in the immortal world by blatantly challenging our family without the disguise of upholding their laws. "If we can take away his argument against us," I declare with more certainty than I feel, "he'll be forced to leave us in peace."

"Of course." Tanya betrays none of the doubt that is saturating her thoughts as she expresses her agreement, and judging by the tenor of the thoughts invading my skull, no one else seems inclined to believe my words, either.

For several minutes, nobody speaks. Grateful for the reprieve, I tune out the constant din inside my brain and angle my body beside Bella. She grasps my hand at once, her brow puckered in contemplation as she stares with a faraway expression at the beams of sunlight warming the hardwood floor.

As it is, she is the first to pick up on the soft crunch of spinning tires transitioning from pavement to dirt as a car pulls off the highway and onto the long drive. "Oh, crap, Charlie." Worrying her bottom lip, Bella glances up at me and mutters hastily, "Maybe the Denalis could hang out upstairs –"

"No." I open my mind once again, listening for any familiar voices… "It's not your father," I tell her while unraveling the various threads of thought surrounding me. Then, the echoes of the two minds approaching create a vaguely recognizable harmony that I have not heard in some time. Blinking once, I focus on Bella's puzzled gaze and say quietly, "Alice sent Peter and Charlotte, after all. Time to get ready for the next round."

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**Author's Note:** The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 594-606.


	13. Company

**Chapter Notes:** I have two reasons for the long break between updates. One, this single chapter from "Breaking Dawn" has grown into a miniature novella – and two, because of its length, as well as the fact that I cannot bear to keep everyone in suspense any longer, I have decided to form two chapters where there used to be only one.

I also realize that I could be totally off the mark in regard to some of the new characters introduced in this portion of the story, but I had fun playing with them regardless. And, I got to toy with a missing scene… so all in all, this is a very entertaining chapter in my opinion.

The second half is nearly finished; I'm hoping to have it ready by the weekend. But in the meantime, enjoy!

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A surge of nervous energy crackles inside the room as the implication of my words sinks in.

Bella presses her teeth into her lower lip, and I stroke the curve of her face with my fingertips, suggesting, "Take Renesmee back into the dining room, love. I'll call for you when it's time."

She flies into motion at once, darting swiftly over to Carmen, and reaches for our daughter at the same time that Renesmee lifts her tiny arms, her dark eyes huge and filled with worry. Jacob follows the pair around the corner and out of sight while another car pulls onto the lawn beside Tanya's. I wait by the door, listening to Peter and Charlotte's nearly synchronous thoughts, dimly aware of the Denali family moving into more casual positions throughout the vast area, hoping to make our guests feel at ease.

Opening the door as soon as their footsteps resonate across the porch, I greet Jasper's brother-in-arms and his mate courteously. "Peter. Charlotte," and bid them to enter with a wordless gesture.

Peter, with the genteel manners of a previous era, allows Charlotte to precede him into the house. The petite vampire scans their surroundings with quick burgundy eyes, her white-blonde hair glinting almost as brilliantly as her skin as she passes through a shaft of sunlight.

Her mate, fair-haired like her but towering above her small form at a height similar to Jasper, keeps his stare locked on me while I close the door and turn to him, murmuring, "Thank you for coming."

"Alice sent us," he says without preamble, "as I'm sure you are aware. She didn't say what it was about – only that we had to come." His attention flickers briefly to the others in the room, noting to himself the odd smell saturating the air and the distinct cadence of a heartbeat.

"Did she tell you where she and Jasper were heading?" I ask, trying not to cling to hope.

Peter shakes his head once. "No, nothing at all." His brow furrows when he adds, "She didn't mention that we would see them in the future, either."

A short stretch of silence follows his statement – and then I catch a thread of observation from Charlotte's mind that intrigues me. _He seems different, this…Edward – yes, that's his name,_ she muses, studying my face. _The last time we visited, he was incredibly rude and taciturn. Now, he is…more grounded. Something has changed him._

Peter and Charlotte's last visit occurred less than two months after Bella arrived in Forks. I was still fighting every predatory instinct I had to not slake my thirst with her appealing blood while also striving to protect her, wanting to declare myself and give my love to her, and seeking ways to prevent the future that Alice's visions spun daily of Bella joining me for eternity.

Naturally, I was less than a polite acquaintance.

The little blonde takes a step forward, clasping her hands in front of her. "I don't wish to seem impolite," she remarks, her voice carrying a bit of a Southern drawl, "but would you please explain why Alice sent us here?" She poses her question very mildly, but I can tell from the look she shares with Peter and each of their thoughts that their suspicion is growing – particularly as to why we have more visitors than can be considered normal, even for an eccentric coven like ours.

I proceed cautiously, repeating the introduction I had used with Tanya and the others – sans the little exercise I had devised that involved the sound of a moist, thudding heart and the scent of Renesmee's unique blood. There is a difference, after all, between arousing curiosity and inviting disaster.

Peter and Charlotte's aversion to what Renesmee appears to be is not as pronounced as the Denali family's rather violent reaction. Neither Peter nor his mate had ever seen an immortal child, but of course they knew of the enforced rule. After I explain my daughter's origins, curiosity spurs first Charlotte and then Peter to experience Renesmee's gift… and, as with the others, the couple immediately accepts our story as truth.

While Peter and I – with Eleazar occasionally chiming in – discuss what exactly it is we would like them to do when the Volturi arrive, Charlotte speaks to Bella. She is intensely interested in the woman who captured my affections while still human, and discerns in the midst of their conversation that the presence of a mate is the new element that has irreversibly altered the course of my existence.

I could not agree more.

By mid-afternoon, we have added two more witnesses to our group, and I allow myself to feel a small portion of optimism. Though Peter is reluctant to commit to standing beside us if it comes to a fight, Tanya maintains her staunch determination to do whatever is necessary to preserve our family and demonstrate her coven's loyalty.

Around sunset on the following evening, just as I am trying to persuade Bella to go hunting with Kate and Tanya – she is stubbornly refusing, asserting that_ she_ will go when_ I_ go – I detect the feathery touch of a strong, unfamiliar mind on the fringe of my consciousness.

Focusing, I realize that the thoughts emanating from this new mind are becoming more defined because it is coming closer, and also, the language it is using – though predominately English – is flavored with a smattering of Gaelic and medieval Celtic.

"Edward?" I hear Bella's voice as though from very far away. "What is it?" she asks, concerned.

"Company."

In the blink of an eye, she and Renesmee retreat to the dining room, preparing for my cue at the right moment. Tanya hovers just outside the back door, Kate waiting a few yards out near the tree line, and inquires tensely, "Who?"

"My best guess?" Shifting my gaze to hers, I reply in an even tone, "Carlisle's friend from Ireland. They're making better progress than I thought," I add, speaking mostly to myself.

_Would you like us to stay?_ Kate thinks, already leaning towards the house on the balls of her feet.

"No," I tell both of them. "You need to hunt. From what Carlisle has told me, Siobhan is a very sensible person, and he has great respect for her." Not to mention the fact that the newest member of her coven has a singular talent that could aid us greatly. Smiling just a little, I assure the sisters, "We'll be fine."

Slower than usual, Tanya flits to Kate's side, and together they ghost into the forest, promising to return within two hours. I close the door and swing around to the front of the house, deciding to wait for Siobhan and her coven on the porch.

The trio emerges from the bare, twisted trees on the far side of the lawn only seconds later. Catching sight of me standing in the shadows beneath the awning, the tallest woman moves forward and the other two orient themselves around her, forming a spear point as they draw near.

I refrain from talking until all three are gathered on the porch, and then I extend my hand in greeting. "Thank you for coming."

Siobhan is silent for a moment, looking me straight in the eye – literally. Her thick, waist-length hair is the color of rust, and despite being tangled with briars and leaves, the strands give off a faint luster in the evening light. Her facial features are all slopes and curves, evoking the memory of ancient royalty from her homeland – and her physical presence is imposing and hypnotic, like the 'Phantom Queen' Morrígan of Celtic mythology.

A few seconds pass, and then Siobhan's ruby eyes soften, her thin lips arcing into a smile. She grasps my wrist instead of my hand – an age-old symbol of comradeship – and replies in a velvety alto voice, "So you are Edward. Carlisle said that you would be expecting us." Upon my nod of assent, she drops my hand and gestures to the man on her left. "This is Liam," she introduces. The lack of expression on his face causes him to appear stern and apathetic, but his sharp gaze pierces the chill air with its intensity, and his mind is highly alert. Then Siobhan points to the woman on her right. "And Maggie." Maggie is a sprite compared to Siobhan and Liam, and she looks the part with her impish expression, wide, glittering eyes and springy red curls as she peers up at me, the top of her head just reaching Siobhan's well-formed bicep.

"It's an honor to meet you all," I offer sincerely. "Please, come in."

Ushering them into the living room, Siobhan immediately makes herself comfortable by sitting down on the pale, overstuffed chair across from the sofa. Liam remains at her side – a motionless sentinel. "Now, Edward." As she says my name, I hear more of her Irish brogue coloring the syllables. "What is this all about?" She raises her eyebrows ever so slightly.

I move over to the sofa, taking a seat directly in front of her, and Maggie perches herself on the opposite end, her keen stare fixed on me. I expect that she will begin to employ her gift as soon as I open my mouth. I am counting on it, actually.

The rehearsed words flow easily through my lips. I keep my gaze locked on Siobhan, though she betrays nothing of her thoughts in her expression – but I attune my mind to Maggie's, listening to her inner voice as she measures every sentence that I speak in order to detect the slightest falsehood.

When I call for Bella, she hesitantly makes her way to the place beside me while Renesmee peeks over a tiny shoulder at our guests, and Siobhan stiffens for a beat just before her eyes dart to Maggie. The little redhead watches my daughter with obvious fascination, certain of the truth of my explanation as I give an account of how Renesmee came into being and the impending visit from the Volturi.

Once I am finished, the members of the Irish coven turn to one another for a brief conference. It is clear from the way that Siobhan and Liam stare expectantly at the younger vampire and the tone of their thoughts that Maggie's verdict will be the deciding factor in whether or not they will grant us their support.

"He speaks the truth, Siobhan," she declares, the accent heavier in her blithe, musical voice. "Every word."

Siobhan gives her a small nod. Turning her face back towards me, she murmurs with certainty, "We shall stay and witness for your family."

"Thank you," Bella and I chorus softly. Maggie slides closer to my wife an instant later, grinning as she asks Renesmee to demonstrate her unusual talent.

The sliver of hope clinging to the walls of my lifeless heart swells as the number of witnesses increases.

That night, and the next, elapse uneventfully. At dawn, however, the resiliency of my hope meets its first test. Strolling with Bella to the house – my arm hugging her waist, her head resting on my shoulder as Renesmee rubs her eyes groggily with her small fists – I suddenly halt on the river's edge. The irate thoughts echoing through my head prod the monster, waking him from his dormant state, and my eyes narrow into slits. Bella lifts her head, a slight frown crinkling her expression. "Edward?"

I inhale deeply through my nose, savoring her delectable scent and its unfailing ability to soothe the savagery of my temper, and then I remark, "A few more visitors arrived very early this morning. Apparently, one of them is quite…_put out_ that we were not here to greet them." I quirk an eyebrow at her, my mouth tipping to one side in a wry grin.

Bella grimaces, muttering in chagrin, "Maybe we should have stayed at the house last night." Generally a modest person, Bella had insisted on putting Renesmee to bed when the little girl yawned no more than twice, her arguing point being that there had been a lot of excitement lately and she – unlike our guests and her vampire parents – needed to sleep.

Of course, I soon discovered from the way she pounced on me once we were in our room that Renesmee's bedtime was the excuse she needed for us to make our escape.

And just like that, my mood is lightened. Chuckling under my breath, I tuck Bella more firmly into my side and brush my lips on her forehead. "Don't worry, love; we'll get things straightened out." The familiar, electric sensation of her skin underneath my mouth awakens a deluge of crystalline memories from the night, and I nuzzle my face into the curve of her neck.

She gasps a little in response, forcing me to concentrate on my words rather than the desires coursing through my body as I murmur into her ear, "I have no regrets about last night, and neither should you. In fact," I trace the line of her jaw from temple to chin, back and forth, my voice fading to a husky whisper, "you can be in charge of bedtime from now on."

Moving downward, my lips press lightly onto her throat, and Bella heaves a shuddering sigh, arching her neck instinctively to grant me better access – which I take full advantage of at once.

"You're driving me crazy," she complains weakly. Her free hand slides up my back, her fingers tangling themselves into my hair.

"Sorry," I mumble into her satiny, fragrant skin, working my way back to the underside of her jaw.

Surprising me, Bella abruptly turns her head, capturing my mouth with hers, and everything else disappears into the ether as the taste of her kiss consumes my senses.

Too soon, she pulls away – only to lean her forehead against mine, a lopsided grin decorating her perfect face. "No you're not," she counters in triumph. With a breathless giggle, she twists out of my hold and sprints toward the river, leaping across effortlessly with our daughter secured in her arms.

I purse my lips, more enticed than annoyed with my temptress wife. I shall have to come up with an appropriate form of retaliation for tonight. Smirking in wicked anticipation, I race after her, landing at her side on the opposite shore in less than two seconds.

The agitated noises of an argument echo from the looming white house, and Bella throws me a worried glance. "Stay out here for now, love," I tell her in a low voice, my gaze locked on the back door. "I'll send someone to come get you in a moment." From the corner of my eye, I see her nod, and I dart soundlessly to the door, slipping through while the verbal tirade of our newest arrival assaults my eardrums and my mind.

"– traveled halfway around the _globe_ because Carlisle spoke of a _great danger_ to his family, and now we have been kept waiting for over _six hours!"_ The shouting voice is masculine, flavored by a strong Middle Eastern accent, as well as the imposing sting of one used to being shown immediate respect.

It must be Amun and his coven from Egypt.

Jacob is lingering with a sullen expression in the far corner. His black-brown eyes light up as he catches sight of me, but then frowns in confusion when he realizes that neither Bella nor Renesmee is with me. "Outside," I mouth to him, and he instantly passes through the shrinking gap between the door and its frame, still hanging open from my entrance.

Squaring my shoulders, I stride into the cavernous living room and interrupt Tanya's attempt to diffuse the quarrel by announcing my presence. "My apologies for keeping you all waiting," I say in a calm, assured tone. My eyes pick out the most irate-looking face from the quartet of darker-skinned vampires and I approach. "I am Carlisle's son, Edward. It is an honor to finally meet you, Amun – my father has always spoken very highly of you." I raise my hand, offering it to him.

He stares at me for a half-second, taken aback, but it quickly fades into displeasure. Ignoring my outstretched hand, Amun juts out his chin and criticizes harshly, "I am certain that Carlisle would be ashamed by your lack of hospitality in his absence. We have been waiting –"

"And now I am here to answer your questions." I meet his blazing ruby eyes unflinching, all the while striving to modulate my voice into an even level. There is a difference between treating one's guests well and being reduced to servitude. I intend to make it abundantly clear to Amun that he will not bully me into catering to his every whim.

While the Arabic vampire shouts incredulously inside his mind, the young man accompanying him steps forward, gripping my hand firmly as he smiles. "My name is Benjamin," he says, his teeth very white against his washed-out caramel complexion. Judging by the youthful roundness of his features, I would guess that he was not much younger than me when he was changed.

Benjamin then gestures to the exotic-looking girl on his left with wide, almond-shaped eyes and a cascade of midnight hair. "This is Tia, my wife." She inclines her head in greeting, but makes no move to shake my hand, as per the customs of her culture. "We understand from your father that you have recently married," Benjamin goes on, and I blink at him, surprised despite myself. "You have our congratulations."

"Enough pleasantries, Benjamin," Amun snaps. The younger vampire glares, but falls silent, backing away a few steps. Staring hard at me, Amun demands brusquely, "You_ will_ tell us why we are here."

A sarcastic retort immediately comes to mind, but I push it aside, focusing my energies on maintaining a courteous disposition. I realize belatedly in some dim corner of my awareness that the older woman standing like a statue just behind Amun's left elbow has not said a single word, or even moved so much as a millimeter. She must be his wife. I unearth her name – Kebi – from his thoughts, filing it away into my memory, and begin to convey our tale once again.

The Egyptian coven responds predictably when Bella carries Renesmee into the room, but Benjamin continues to impress me as he moves toward the little girl only seconds after I finish my explanation, interested in her way of sharing her story.

"Remarkable," he whispers several minutes later. My daughter smiles radiantly, though I notice the traces of uncertainty in her brown eyes, and she watches Benjamin as he extends a hand in wordless command to Tia.

Renesmee repeats her story to Benjamin's wife, convincing her just as thoroughly as all the others.  
Tia straightens, and turns her attention to Bella, offering a slight, genuine smile. "Your daughter is very beautiful," she comments softly.

Bella releases her lower lip, which she has been biting down on from the moment she walked into the room, and stammers, "Th-thank you."

"You see?" Benjamin raises his dark eyebrows at Amun. "Edward has told us the truth. This child is no threat."

I clench my jaw in frustration to Amun's thoughts right before he disagrees aloud, "A trick. This is all a trick." He jabs an accusing finger at Renesmee. She cringes into her mother's embrace, and Bella bares her teeth at him. "That_ abomination_ has bewitched you, Benjamin, and I refuse to let it deceive me, as well." Whirling around, he begins to head for the front door, declaring, "We are leaving. Now."

"No."

Amun halts in mid-step. He spins on heel, his expression irate and disbelieving. "What?"

"No," Benjamin says again, his voice hard. "The Cullens came to us for help, Amun, and I intend to help them. This child has done nothing to me except to open my eyes to a whole new world of possibilities." He narrows his eyes; I pick up a thread of shrewd coercion from his thoughts, and barely hold back a smirk. "A coven such as this," Benjamin remarks mildly, "is not bound by prejudice or intolerant assumptions. Perhaps someone looking for a…broader scope would be better suited for this coven, rather than another." He crosses his arms, staring meaningfully at his creator.

Cunning in his own right, it does not take Amun very long to dissect Benjamin's veiled statement. His deep red eyes widen in fear, but his words are angry as he asks, "Are you threatening me?"

"Not at all," Benjamin replies with a shake of his head. "I was only making an observation."

In the end, Amun is won over by Benjamin's subtle hints of breaking ties to his coven and he agrees to stay. But in his narrow-mindedness, he will not go near Renesmee, and forbids his wife to touch her, as well. He and Kebi slink off to the far side of the house while Benjamin officially introduces himself and Tia to Bella. Pleased, I watch in silence as they congratulate her both for our marriage and the birth of our daughter, and a grin pulls up the corners of my mouth as Bella ducks her head a little, smiling in secret delight.

Sometime in the mid-afternoon, Eleazar returns with Carmen from a hunting trip. Upon meeting Benjamin, Eleazar's vivid golden eyes widen with awe as his gift interprets the younger vampire's talent. Mixed with the garbled exclamations in Spanish, I am able to piece together the gist of Benjamin's ability…and it is formidable, indeed.

Bella studies my and Eleazar's reactions, her gaze inquisitive, but she does not bring it up until we are back at the cottage. After Renesmee is sound asleep and tucked into her bed, Bella and I lounge comfortably on the plush loveseat by the fireplace, our fingertips idly stroking each other's bare skin.

"Is Benjamin's gift like some kind of magnetism?" Bella asks curiously, tracing the pale blue veins from the crook of my elbow to my wrist. "It seems like Amun and the others are…drawn to him."

Gently, I push her long, chocolate-colored hair aside, exposing her neck and shoulder, and press my cheek against her throat, my fingers ghosting over her collarbone. "It's not that," I murmur, turning my face towards her neck so that I can inhale her heady aroma, allowing it to fill my head, and I almost lose my train of thought completely. Pulling away a few centimeters, I take in a quick breath of less potent air and go on. "His gift is so singular that Amun is terrified of losing him. Much like we had planned to keep Renesmee from Aro's knowledge –" a sigh escapes from me, and Bella lifts my hand to her mouth, kissing the palm "– Amun has been keeping Benjamin from Aro's attention. Amun created Benjamin, knowing he would be special."

"What can he do?" Bella shifts a bit in my arms, tilting her head back and to the side in order to see my face.

"Something Eleazar's never seen before," I tell her. "Something I've never heard of. Something that even your shield would do nothing against." Grinning crookedly, I lean down and kiss the tip of her nose, indulging in my proud adoration of her. Her soft gaze, though shimmering with love in the firelight, is still curious, and so I finish my answer. "He can actually influence the elements – earth, wind, water, and fire. True physical manipulation, no illusion of the mind." Her eyes widen in amazement. "Benjamin's still experimenting with it," I remark quietly, "and Amun tries to mold him into a weapon. But you see how independent Benjamin is. He won't be used." And I respect that; one of many things that I respect in Benjamin's character, as a matter of fact.

Bella examines my expression for a full second. Losing myself in her mesmerizing stare, I notice the subtle differences of color in her scarlet irises. The lingering shade of brilliant ruby is prominent only around the pupils, and then it fades to a clear reddish-orange – like the glow of the setting sun – with a faint ring of amber on the outer edge.

"You like him," she guesses, awakening me from my spellbound reverie.

I shrug one shoulder. "He has a very clear sense of right and wrong. I like his attitude."

Speaking of attitude… I lower my head, hiding my devious little smile by kissing the top of her shoulder. It is time to put my plan of vengeance into action.

With my lips on her shoulder, I draw a path up to the base of her neck, lifting her hair into my hand while pressing a kiss on the nape. She shivers, just as I knew she would, and I stifle the urge to cackle with glee.

Adjusting her weight so it rests further down on my lap, I begin to brush my lips along the curve of her spine, marking the place of each vertebrae with a feathery kiss. When I reach the small of her back, she whimpers ever so softly, testing my resolve, and tries to turn around. "Patience, love," I chastise her in a whisper. I make my way back up, following the previous movements exactly, but this time I let my mouth hover on the back of her neck, tracing her skin from the hollow of one ear to the other.

She twitches, and my arms tighten automatically, keeping her locked in place. "You're trying to kill me," she moans throatily, each word throbbing with passion.

I chuckle, though the sound is shaky to my own ears. I am determined to prolong this tender torment for a few more minutes, but the anticipation is starting to feel like punishment to the both of us. Attempting to break some of the tension, I joke, surprising even myself, "I thought I already did."

Bella is quiet for a moment, but then she defies weakly, "Ha, ha."

She sucks in a sharp breath as I splay one of my hands on her stomach, the other skimming lightly across her breastbone while my lips tickle the side of her throat. "Edward…" she whispers. I close my eyes at the desperate desire in her voice, my willpower faltering with every passing second. She tries to move again; my hold convulses – but it is feeble, and she knows it.

I have the barest fraction of a second to brace myself before she murmurs the one word that shatters my self-control. Even then, it does no good.

"Please?"

As soon as I loosen my arms, she writhes like a wild thing, twisting around and entwining her body with mine while our mouths connect in an explosion that sets my entire being on fire.

I burn with her until the sun begins its slow ascent into the watery blue sky.

That same day is when the first nomad arrives. Garrett, having been sent by Emmett and Rosalie, made his way from New England at once, stopping only to hunt. He is tall and lean, his sandy-blonde hair tied back with a scrap of leather, and he has an adventurous disposition – which is how he came to this country in the first place.

A colonist in the late 1700's, Garrett was changed by a vampire that had long since made a home among the then untamed wilds of North America, and he happened to be out scouting for his fellow patriots when she came across him. The local Mohican tribes called her _Musqáyuw Pchanim_ – the Red Woman – for her lips were always stained with blood.

Not even Garrett himself knows why she did not simply kill him. She only waited until he awoke, a fresh kill draped in her arms, and let his instincts figure out the rest. Then she was gone.

He is fairly easy to convince, though I suspect he is eager for a challenge rather than facing the injustices of the Volturi – but, given his history, I cannot rule it out. He is also intrigued by our and the Denali family's lifestyle and quickly falls in with Tanya and Kate, directing incessant questions at them at every opportunity. Although, there is more to Garrett's fascination with Kate in particular than just her hunting habits, yet he hides it well. For now.

It will be interesting to see how that plays out.

Not too long after, Mary – a nomad from the Midwest with a sharp wit and cropped locks the color of toffee – comes to the house. Tagging along with her is another nomad, Randall – whose dark, tousled hair and ready smile remind me of Emmett. The two had met up with one another en route to the Olympic Peninsula and decided to travel the rest of the way together.

Like Garrett, both of the newcomers accept Renesmee's story and agree to witness for us. In their minds, however, all three nomads examine the possibility of standing beside our family if the Volturi do not pause and see reason.

While I am strongly opposed to any of our friends perishing with us, a frail bubble of belief buoys up my spirit, whispering to me daily that the number of witnesses has grown, and thus our chances of averting this disaster have multiplied.

Contemplations of a hunt starts to permeate the thoughts of several guests; those who have traveled the farthest and been with us the longest are not as accustomed to harnessing their thirst as we are, and I find myself having to block some of the more…graphic images from my mind before the smoldering burn in the back of my throat flares into a wildfire.

All of them are aware of how we survive, but it occurs to me that I should address the issue – if only for the sake of clarifying a few particulars as to how our guests should conduct themselves while they are here.

I gather them all together in the massive front room – a total of twelve 'non-vegetarians' – and submit my request: that they only hunt out of state, avoiding the town of Forks and La Push, as per the treaty with the wolves.

Bella fidgets a little beside me as I speak, and I know she is probably uncomfortable with the idea that we are inadvertently encouraging the slaughter of innocent humans…as am I. But, we each have made our choices, and the fact remains that if these vampires were not here, they would most assuredly be hunting elsewhere in the world.

Jacob is even more disturbed than Bella; his hands begin to tremble while I offer this compromise to the others, but he realizes that we have no other option. Though it chafes his very nature to allow a group of vampires to threaten human life when he was born to defend it, he cannot argue, and I think that feeling of helplessness is what bothers Jacob the most.

Once our visitors agree to my terms, I mention that there is transportation available to those who would like to use a vehicle, and Garrett's keen scarlet eyes instantly light up with interest. "Count me in," he announces. "I could use a change of scenery."

Randall, Benjamin, and Tia also take advantage of my proposition, and I lead the way to the garage as the others chatter to one another in muted enthusiasm.

A soft brush of a hand against mine causes me to smile slightly. Bella has never been far from me in the last few days, and the need for closeness is entirely mutual, so I have never broached the subject. Before her fingertips withdraw from my skin, I flip my hand to the side and clasp hers tightly. She squeezes my fingers in tender commiseration.

Clutched in Bella's other arm, Renesmee looks up attentively at Jacob's scowling face while he walks alongside her mother, resisting the urge to glance over his shoulder as his instincts scream for him to protect himself from the vampires strolling casually behind him. He has been trying to maintain a careful distance ever since the first of our family's friends arrived, but Renesmee seems to expect that his presence should be a constant at the house – and he, in turn, finds it extremely difficult to stay away from her.

Seeming to sense his bad-tempered mood, Renesmee stretches out a tiny hand and pats Jacob on the arm, attempting to soothe him. He glances sideways at her and gamely tries to smile, but it ends up looking more like a grimace. "I tell you what, Nessie," he grumbles under his breath. "Someone is going to have to write up an index if anyone expects me to keep all these new bloodsuckers' names straight." His eyes flash over to me, and I purse my lips to hide a grin while Bella elbows him – cautiously – in the ribs.

Randall suddenly lets out a low whistle that echoes throughout the garage, his eyes widening appreciatively at the collection of vehicles gleaming beneath the overhead fluorescent lights. "Nice," he murmurs, eyeing the red M3 parked on his right.

"I haven't got the keys to that one," I tell him, smirking. "Rosalie is very…particular about who is allowed to drive her car." Bella giggles softly in response. "But you would be most welcome to use any of the others." I gesture towards the line of cars with a hand as I speak.

Benjamin and Tia opt for the less conspicuous black Mercedes; the two of them rocket down the long drive and onto the freeway in a handful of seconds. Randall, having been denied the chance to sit in the driver's seat of a BMW, chooses to take the yellow Porsche for a spin. I manage to even out my features as I hand him the keys to Alice's car – a gift from me – and I sense Bella's concerned eyes on my face, a thin web of lines marring her smooth forehead.

After Randall is well on his way, Garrett's voice calls out from the back of the enormous garage, "What's under here?" He is pointing at a curved, vaguely rectangular shape covered by a sheet of white linen, tucked into the far left corner and partially hidden behind Emmett's Jeep.

Surprise ripples within my mind, momentarily disrupting my train of thought. For all of my careful planning and time taken in order to choose the perfect means of transportation for my bride, I had completely forgotten to show it to her.

Immediately I turn to her, humiliation knifing through me, and I grasp her free hand in both of mine. "Bella, love…I'm so sorry. I forgot about your birthday present. I should have given it to you_ months_ ago." Self-loathing contorts my expression. In my deplorable selfishness to finally have_ all_ of her to myself and to live together as equals, I missed my opportunity to mark the most important day of her life – and mine – by presenting Bella with a small, tangible token of my love for her. Beseeching her with my eyes, I plead, "Please forgive me for being so thoughtless, I should have remembered –"

Two soft, slender fingers press against my lips, silencing the remainder of my apology. "Edward." She says my name so affectionately that my mouth instantly craves the sweetness of her skin, but I refrain from kissing the fingertips resting on my lower lip. Smiling ever so slightly, Bella says in a gentle tone, "It's fine. You don't have to apologize. I already got more than I could ever want for my birthday" – her flame-colored eyes smolder in remembrance of our first uninhibited night in each other's arms, and tendrils of heat lick at the nerve endings along my spine – "and you know how I feel about gifts in general anyway, so it doesn't matter." She slowly lowers her hand, and part of me mourns the loss of her touch as she remarks with a faint shrug, "But you can show it to me now. If you want."

Grateful as always to earn her forgiveness, I reach for the hand she just dropped and cradle it delicately in mine, raising it to my lips. Holding her gaze, I breathe quietly, "Thank you," and kiss her knuckles in the gallant manner of times gone by.

Bella arches an eyebrow, her expression playfully condescending. "If you're trying to butter me up so that I won't throw a fit about the car, it's not going to work," she declares. Her full lips shape themselves into that deliciously distracting pout. "We made a deal, I know, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."

"I wouldn't expect you to," I reply with a warm smile. Despite her less than gracious acceptance of my gifts, she has not pulled her hand from my grasp, and I let the pad of my thumb draw small circles on the back of her hand, becoming hopelessly adrift in the liquid fire of her eyes.

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Jacob gently extracts Renesmee from Bella's hold and sets the little girl on her feet. She wraps her tiny hand around two of his fingers, her dark eyes inquisitive as she peers up at him, and then she sends him a picture of the covered object, wanting to see what is underneath the sheet.

"It's your mom's present, Nessie," he tells her in a low aside. "You'll have to wait until she's ready to open it." Then he lowers his voice even more and adds, "Which could be sometime in the next decade or two."

Without breaking eye contact, both Bella and I remark in unison, "Shut up, Jake."

His mouth twists into a smirk, and he waits until Bella throws a familiar scowl in his direction, thus ending the unspoken conversation between us, before he says loudly, "So, you bought Bella a car?" It is obvious from his tone and his thoughts that he is ready to move on from the _'daily googly-eyes session'. _He and Renesmee start to walk towards the far end of the garage; I tug lightly on Bella's hand, signaling her to follow, and she exhales in a resigned sort of way.

Garrett is still waiting – leaning casually against the back wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him – his ruby-red stare keenly observant as the four of us come to a stop in front of Bella's gift.

"Actually," she answers Jacob's earlier question, "he got me_ two_ cars –" a sour glare pierces my gaze, and I smile back angelically "– one for when I needed protection from _tanks,_ and one for when I'm less breakable and more coordinated."

"The Guardian was only on loan, Bella," I remind her. Jacob's confusion over her statement immediately clears as I mention the model of the car she drove before our wedding to ease my mind. I had tolerated that rusted monstrosity of a truck for so long simply because it was a sturdy vehicle and Bella had an absurd affection for all things that were hazardous to her health – myself included.

Perhaps the missile-proof glass and body armor was going a bit overboard…but the mere notion that she could be harmed while I was away made my insides churn with dread, and I could think of nothing else.

_This _car, however, is better suited for someone as extraordinary as Bella Cullen.

Dropping her hand, I stroll around to the side of the shrouded gift, grinning broadly as I wonder what her reaction will be, and grab a handful of the white cloth. "But this one," I announce in a gleeful tone, "is all yours." I yank off the sheet in one fluid motion, my attention fixed on Bella's perfect face.

Her eyes widen the tiniest bit, but otherwise she remains unmoved, staring at the sleek car, its elegant body gleaming in the bright light.

"Pretty," Renesmee whispers. She raises a hand to touch the scarlet hood –

Jacob jerks her backward. With a wounded frown, the little girl tilts her head up to look at him. My grin grows even broader as I take in his dumbfounded and awed expression, his mouth hanging open like a panting dog. Yes, it is definitely worth it to have someone with a useful appreciation for quality automobiles present for this little event.

_Is that…? It can't be! It's not –_ Hoarsely, Jacob manages to ask, "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes, it is," I reply with a nod.

_"Damn!"_ he exclaims. "Now_ that's_ a beautiful piece of machinery!" He starts to circle the vehicle at a very slow pace, angling his head this way and that in order to glimpse every surface. Renesmee trails along, less interested than before and still disgruntled that he will not let her lay a finger on the polished paint.

Chuckling softly, Garrett comes away from the wall, commenting, "You do like to spoil your woman, don't you?"

I laugh in response, looping around Jacob's towering frame to stand beside Bella, who turns to look at me with a belligerent glower. "More like he's just trying to find new ways to embarrass me," she accuses, though I detect the flicker of indulgent pleasure in her crimson irises.

In an effort to dispel her negativity, I bend forward and brush a kiss on the tip of her nose. A reluctant smile tugs half-heartedly on one corner of her mouth. Victorious, I wrap an arm around her shoulders and nudge her closer to her gift, motioning towards it with my other hand. "What do you think, love?"

She ponders for a moment, and then shrugs. "It's pretty."

Jacob twitches upright from crouching beside the left rear tire, gawking at her in disbelief. _"'Pretty'?"_ he says incredulously. "Bella, do you know what kind of car this is?"

"Um…" She leans far to the side, searching for some clue on the vehicle itself – and suddenly she spots the emblem on the driver's side fender. The months she spent in my, and Jacob's, company has educated her enough to recognize a variety of manufacturer logos, though she still sounds a little unsure as she replies, "A Ferrari?"

"Yes, Bella, a Ferrari," Jacob deadpans, mocking her lack of enthusiasm. Then he virtually explodes, his face lighting up with a sort of wild fervor as he points at the car. "This is a _Ferrari F430,_ Bella! It has a 4.3liter V8 engine with a max speed of 197 miles per hour and can go from zero to sixty in 3.5 seconds! C'mon, Bells!" He throws up an arm, exasperated. The volume of his words has steadily risen, so now he is practically shouting at her. "The rpm on this baby could give even you whiplash!" _I mean – _his mind is still reeling as he digs through his memory –_ it's probably something insane, like 7900 or –_

"8500," I interject helpfully. He jabs a finger at me in silent emphasis and then raises his eyebrows in expectation at Bella, waiting for her to admit that she is impressed.

She eyes us both as though doubting our sanity and crosses her arms over her chest. "I don't understand half of what you just said, Jake," she remarks flatly. "I still think it's pretty."

Garrett tries to disguise his guffaw as a cough while I cover my mouth with a hand, smothering my amused laughter. Refusing to be deterred, Jacob marches up to us, his black-brown eyes boring into Bella's, and demands, "Take it for a test drive. I guarantee that when you come back, you'll have a better opinion of your car other than _'it's pretty'."_

Smelling a challenge, Bella juts out her chin in defiance and holds out an open palm to me. "Edward, my keys," she orders, not looking away from Jacob's fierce stare.

It is fortunate that I had the presence of mind to put_ all_ of the spare keys in the garage. As I walk over to the black cabinet mounted onto the rear wall, I motion for Garrett to join me. Opening the cabinet, I retrieve two sets of silvery keys and toss one to the nomad, which he catches easily, his expression curious. "Take the Vanquish," I tell him, inclining my head towards the car parked directly across from the Ferrari.

With a mock-salute, Garrett climbs in and maneuvers the compact vehicle effortlessly around the others and out the garage door, disappearing quickly into the shadows of the trees.

Jacob and Bella are still trying to outdo one another through intimidation, and neither of them seems to notice as I unlock the Ferrari and open the driver's side door. Clearing my throat, I call out in a mild voice, "Bella." She flounces past Jacob with her head held high and slides into the black leather seat. I close her door and dart around to the passenger's side, sitting down before offering her the car keys with a slight smile. She blinks at me in confusion. "I'm not about to let you go alone," I tease her, dangling the keys from my forefinger. "Do you even know how to drive stick?"

A low growl vibrates inside her chest and I hold back a snicker, incredibly entertained while I watch her jam the key into the ignition and twist. The engine blazes to life with a purring roar, and Jacob mentally approves, though he is beginning to wish that he could come along, too. He scoops Renesmee into his arms and she waves at us as we coast onto the dirt drive.

As we head to the highway entrance, I instruct Bella on the basics of manual shifting, holding onto her hand as she practices switching gears in the air. She had always absorbed new information rather well as a human, and her enhanced vampire mind retains every detail I relay to her perfectly.

"Are you ready?" I ask, grinning.

She inhales a deep breath, biting down on her lower lip, and a determined gleam flares in her eyes. Grasping the gear shift, she shoves it forward and slams on the gas pedal, and the car leaps forward like a pouncing jaguar, launching us down the highway at a speed Bella would never attempt in the past.

She breezes through three gears, appearing not to notice how the needle on the speedometer is inching closer to one-thirty – and suddenly she gasps, muttering, "Too fast, too fast," and lifts her foot off the pedal.

The needle falls to ninety, then eighty…

"Bella, love," I murmur soothingly as the car slows to seventy-five miles per hour, "you're not going to crash, and you won't get a speeding ticket. Just drive how you want."

Her head whips sideways, fixing me with a desperate, frightened glance. "What if I hit someone?" she whispers.

"You won't. I won't let you."

She nods slowly, gaining confidence from my promise, and steps down on the clutch, moving it back into a faster gear. The speedometer needle rapidly returns to the space between one-thirty and one-forty, hovering there for several minutes. Bella giggles once; it sounds a little strained, but the faint grin curving her lips is genuine. "I remember this being a lot harder," she remarks under her breath.

I stay quiet, just enjoying the view. The contours of the black seat hug her body seamlessly, her slender fingers curling around the steering wheel, and I reach out to tuck her hair behind her ear. My fingertips linger on her silken cheek as I admire her, commenting in a husky voice, "You are…exquisite."

A shiver ripples through her while I trace the shape of her mouth. "Stop distracting me," she mumbles, her words shaky, "or we really will crash and ruin this pretty car." Her eyelids flutter involuntarily; she snaps them open, her grip tightening on the wheel, and gazes fixedly at the road.

Chuckling low in my throat, I withdraw my hand. "As you wish." But I do not take my eyes off her throughout the course of our journey.

Eventually, Bella exits the highway and turns around, heading back to the house. She pulls into the garage – Jacob and Renesmee are nowhere in sight – and shuts off the engine. An unexpected frown crosses her features, and I immediately ask out of sheer reflex, "What are you thinking?"

Rotating in her seat to look at me, she admits in embarrassment, "I really do like this car."

"Good." I frame her cheek with my palm, my grin fading as I try to decipher the cause of her self-conscious behavior. "But why is that a bad thing?"

"Because it means that Jacob was right." Her nose crinkles in distaste.

A burst of jovial laughter erupts from my mouth, and I lean across the center console to enfold Bella in my arms, pulling her from the driver's seat and into my lap. She is still pouting as I kiss her cheek, nuzzling my face into the crook of her neck. "You are so utterly charming when you sulk," I confide to her softly.

She tilts her head to look at me, the frown melting from her expression, and in her warm eyes I see the gratefulness that she will never articulate. But just knowing that she feels it, however minutely, is enough for me. I brush my lips with the lightest pressure over hers, murmuring, " And you're welcome."

I deny her the chance to argue by holding her face securely to mine with one hand on the curve of her jaw and the other tangled in her silken brown locks, cupping the back of her head. She moans very quietly, the sound both defeated and sensual, and twists a little further against me so that she can wind her arms around my neck, burying her slender fingers in my hair.

Three sharp raps on the passenger window startle us apart. Losing myself so completely in Bella, I had allowed the constant flow of other's thoughts to fade into the background, and remained blissfully oblivious of any forthcoming interruptions – until said intruder has already arrived.

Rolling my eyes, I sigh in frustration and mumble to Bella, "It's Jacob."

She exhales a gusty breath and spins in a half-circle, her legs resting atop mine, and jabs her forefinger onto the automatic window button, her expression one of fierce displeasure. "What, Jake?" she hisses.

_Touchy…_ Wearing an obnoxiously cheerful grin, Jacob places his forearm on the window frame and bends down to see both of us, though his eyes flicker more often than not to the Ferrari's stylish interior. "So," he begins, "what do you think of this baby _now?" _He thinks he has her backed into a corner, forcing her to admit an improved opinion of her gift, and is practically crowing in triumph inside his head.

Bella straightens, feigning thoughtful contemplation as she taps her chin with a finger, humming. "It's still pretty – and fast –" Then she beams, exposing her gleaming white teeth. "But I like to run."

My laughter reverberates noisily through the open window and within the garage as Jacob stares at her, speechless. Bella smiles at him sweetly while the tinted window rolls back up, reminding him just before it seals shut to make sure Renesmee goes on a hunt, and then proceeds to banish every distraction from my mind except for her over the course of several hours.

Needless to say, I find myself appreciating the concept of _flexibility_ for the first time in my existence.

One week to the day since they left, Carlisle and Esme return home.

Seconds after greeting Bella, Renesmee, and I, they are literally swarmed by our guests, all of them eager to speak to my father, as he has not seen them in some time. As his wide topaz eyes absorb the number of vampires crowded into the main room, Carlisle searches for me, spotting my crooked smile near the back of the group. _You have done well, son,_ he compliments with deep sincerity. _As I knew you would. _

My eyes prickle, and I blink quickly, inclining my head towards him.

Esme threads her way to me through the chattering throng with her granddaughter clutched in one arm. She pulls me into an embrace with her free hand, hugging my shoulders tightly, and kisses my cheek. "I am so proud of you," she whispers in my ear.

Once the welcoming clamor has somewhat dimmed, my father ducks out the front door – only to reappear with another visitor, whom he has apparently dragged off the porch and into the house. I am a bit taken aback by the sour flavor of the newcomer's thoughts, which waver between various fears and irritation both with himself and Carlisle for agreeing to be here.

"Everyone," Carlisle announces genially, "this is Alistair, another friend."

Taking that as my cue, I lift my daughter easily from Esme's hold and head towards the two men. Bella meets up with me halfway and matches her steps with mine, grasping my hand as soon as I am within her reach. "Alistair, this is my son, Edward – his wife, Bella – and their daughter, Renesmee," Carlisle says to the motionless, dark-haired vampire beside him.

I repeat our story to Alistair in a low voice, monitoring his inner musings in the process, and I start to realize that my father's friend is perhaps slightly neurotic and extremely antisocial.

He seems to listen to my explanation, though he had already decided before making the journey to trust Carlisle's word, and he is the third guest to refuse Renesmee's offer to share her story. He also says very little to anyone present – not knowing, of course, that his mind speaks volumes to someone with my talent – and once the formalities are concluded, he slips back outside, retreating first to the porch and then into the fringe of trees surrounding the meadow in front of the house.

In the aftermath of Alistair's abrupt departure, Kate waits for a handful of seconds before sniffing in annoyance and griping, "What's_ his_ problem?"

Carlisle shakes his head, smiling ruefully. "That's just Alistair's way. I suppose I've gotten used to it in the few hundred years we've known each other." Then he turns to me, his gaze and thoughts questioning. "But what does he think of our request, Edward? Will he stay and witness?"

I review what I heard from his mind for a brief moment and then reply, "He is afraid to be here, but more afraid of not knowing the outcome." That is the only reasoning I can come up with for his erratic internal struggle between staying and leaving. "He is deeply suspicious of all authority," I go on slowly, "and therefore naturally suspicious of the Volturi. What is happening now seems to confirm all his fears."

"So he'll stay?" Esme asks.

Shrugging, I tell her, "He seems decided now, but that could change."

Indeed, the misanthropic vampire hovers incessantly in the realm of indecision all throughout his sojourn with us. He has a habit of talking to himself, and prefers to do so in the attic of all places, the boards creaking under his feet as he paces back and forth, muttering all the while.

On one such occasion, Bella and I happen to be in my old room under the guise of sorting through some of my belongings to bring to the cottage, when in reality we just wanted to find a vacant spot to enjoy each other's company without an audience. Bella freezes in my arms when she hears him grumbling above us as we lay together on the wrought-iron bed, "Of course, now they'll know I was here. No way to keep it from Aro at this point. Centuries on the run, that's what this will mean. Everyone Carlisle's talked to in the last decade will be on their list. I can't believe I got myself sucked into this mess. What a fine way to treat your friends."

The mattress shakes along with my frame as I chuckle soundlessly. Bella stares at me with wide eyes and whispers so swiftly that her full lips appear to vibrate, "How in the world does he plan on running from the Volturi?"

"Alistair is a tracker," I murmur into her ear, breathing in her luscious fragrance at the same time. "He is nowhere near as precise as Demetri, but he feels a…pull toward whatever he seeks. That pull will be enough to tell him which direction to run if or when Demetri starts looking for him."

Bella's hair tickles my cheek and forehead as I leave a trail of tender kisses along her throat. When I reach the middle of her breastbone, she asks with a quivering sigh, "How did he and Carlisle meet if he hates being around other people so much?"

"A story for another time, love," I respond absently, my concentration fracturing under the intoxicating sway of my wife's heady scent and the taste of her skin as it clings deliciously to my tongue.  
She suddenly grips my face between her palms, tugging my mouth up to meet hers, and I suppress a smile, briefly rejoicing at having successfully distracted her from her questions.

_Honey, I'm home!_

A growl rumbles low in my chest; ever perceptive, Bella mumbles, "Another visitor?"

My fingers press gently into the curve of her waist while my other hand rests on the side of her neck, my thumb lightly tracing the shape of her jaw line. "Em and Rose are back," I inform her, using as few words as possible to convey my answer.

"Time?"

"Five minutes."

"We can be downstairs in ten seconds," she declares, and my chuckle is swallowed by her urgent kiss.

Truly, it is a relief to have everyone – well,_ almost_ everyone – back at home. Emmett radiates glee and a feral sort of satisfaction upon learning of the seventeen witnesses we have gathered thus far, and claps me hard on the shoulder after cuddling Renesmee to his enormous chest and very nearly repeating the action with Bella. "This is going to work, brother," he asserts boldly. "You'll see. And then I expect to hear a great big 'Thank you, Emmett'."

"Thank you, Emmett," Bella mocks in a sarcastic tone, smoothing her palms over her disheveled hair, aggravated that he had picked her up as if she were no more than a child.

He grins down at her. "I missed you, too, little sister." The affection in his voice is genuine and Bella senses it. She smiles back, a little unwilling, and shoves against his chest playfully.

Rosalie keeps Renesmee in her arms until it is time to put the sleeping little girl to bed. "Bella," she speaks up softly as her newest sister pulls Renesmee from her embrace. Bella peers at her curiously. "We're going to protect her." Rosalie's vow is low and fervent. "Nothing is going to happen to her. We will all do what we must to keep Nessie safe."

Bella touches Rose on the arm, smiling faintly. "Thank you, Rose," she murmurs.

Looping an arm around Bella's waist, I nod my thanks to Rosalie and steer my wife towards the chilly black forest.

"Make sure you come back in the morning," Emmett calls to our retreating backs. "You wouldn't want me to have to come and get you!"

His boisterous snickering follows us all the way to the riverbank.

------------

**Author's Note:** The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 607-612, with references to pages 630 and 631.

And thank you all, for your continued support and encouragement. You have my deepest gratitude.


	14. Practice

**Chapter Notes:** My apologies for keeping all of you waiting a little longer than I had anticipated. There was one particular scene that I wanted to get_ exactly_ right.

Enjoy!

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With the dawn, the first coating of snow blankets the Olympic Peninsula.

Renesmee weaves a wild path through the trees as we return to the house, her cheeks glowing a beautiful, flushed pink while she races around the trunk of a weathered pine, a handful of white powder clenched in her tiny fist.

Giggling, the sound like a tinkling chorus of sleigh bells, she throws the snowball in my direction, pelting the side of my left leg. "Nessie…" I growl, stalking towards her with exaggerated slowness. She shrieks in delight and vanishes into a cluster of bare saplings circling a pair of ancient oaks.

Her breathless giggles and sweet scent lead me to her easily, and I surprise her by sneaking around the opposite side of the rightmost tree trunk. "Gotcha!" I hoist her into the air, tossing her feather-light form above my head, chuckling as she screams and laughs each time she floats weightlessly for those few brief seconds right before I catch her. Finally, I cuddle her to my chest, kissing her rosy cheeks and her forehead. "I love you, Nessie."

Renesmee puts her small hand on my face, her brown eyes glowing. "I love you, Daddy," she says both aloud and with her mind. Her gaze drifts to the side, looking at something behind me, and a glittering smile lights up her cherubic face.

A lump of hard-packed snow slams into the back of my head.

Bella's startled, triumphant guffaw rings across the wintry backdrop like the most beautiful music. The sound is abruptly cut off as she claps her hand over her mouth, her fiery-colored eyes rounded in suspense while I turn around with slow deliberation.

I touch the wet flakes clinging to the ends of my hair and then cock an eyebrow at my wife, whose small hand does not completely hide her alluring, devilish smirk. "Did you just throw a snowball at me, Mrs. Cullen?" I ask politely.

She composes herself and adopts a prim, formal stance. "Why yes, I did, Mr. Cullen."

Keeping my attention locked on her, I set Renesmee on her feet and straighten up, resisting the impulse to take even the smallest step in Bella's direction. "Are you going to apologize?" I say in the same measured tone.

"Are you going to make me?" she counters. Her body shifts infinitesimally, giving away her intended escape route.

I give her a wide, wicked grin. "Most definitely."

I feign a head-on sprint and Bella, anticipating any sudden movement on my part, leaps sideways and races toward the west. Renesmee claps with excitement as I loop around the low-hanging branches of a massive fir, capturing Bella in my arms right after she darts past.

Yelping in surprise, the momentum of her sprint causes us to tumble to the ground, rolling down a short incline. I swiftly position myself so that she is lying on her back, her wrists locked in my hands while I hold her arms above her head, her legs pinned beneath mine to prevent her from wriggling free.

Leaning in, I hold her wide-eyed, sparkling gaze and pause only when our noses brush together. "I'm waiting for my apology," I growl, though her lively expression and the feel of her body pressing against my own is making it very difficult to carry on our little game.

Her eyes grow warm, and she lifts her head, giving me a brief but sweet kiss. "But I got you to chase me," she remarks simply, a smile lighting up her heart-shaped face. "Should I be sorry for that?"

"Not at all."

We hold one another tenderly on the icy, snow-sprinkled forest floor. At some point, I feel Bella's palms smoothing over my back and across my chest – and then a handful of something wet slides underneath the collar of my shirt, soaking into the fabric. "Oh, you are going to get it now…"

Snickering shrilly, Bella squirms out of my grasp and snatches another clump of snow from the ground before vanishing into the woods. I shake out my shirt, using some of her sabotage to form my own snowball, and track her scent back to our daughter. By now, the area is saturated with the instantly recognizable odor of werewolf.

Jacob carries Renesmee, shielding her from any stray fire, while Bella and I cavort like children, attacking each other with a flurry of snowballs as we cross the river and make our way to the back door of the house.

The room erupts with laughter upon seeing our disheveled, snow-ridden appearance. "Have fun this morning, Edward?" Emmett jokes, a knowing glint in his ocher eyes.

I ignore the answering chuckles, walking over to Bella and framing her cheeks with my palms, my thumbs clearing the lingering beads of ice from her skin. "Yes, I did," I murmur in response to my brother's insinuation, though my gaze is fixed on Bella. She lowers her eyelashes – her new equivalent of a blush – and I bend down to touch my lips gently to hers.

An unfamiliar, ferine consciousness invades my skull with the abrasive force of a hurricane. My head snaps up, swinging towards the front door, my nostrils flaring. "Were we expecting anyone else?" I demand to no one in particular, stretching out with my gift in an effort to interpret the more subtle workings of this new, quickly approaching mind.

"Not that I'm aware of," Carlisle answers in a low voice. _Are you able to gain any insight?_

The wildness of these thoughts is foreign, but I can detect no hostility as far as my family is concerned. As the seconds pass, the pattern of the internal voice seems to separate, forming two individual minds that are even more in concert with one another than Peter and Charlotte. I also pick out various images that strike a memorable chord: the tangled, deep emerald foliage of a rainforest – a half-moon suspended in a velvety black sky – then I glimpse an elfin face, crowned by a spiky halo of ink-colored hair.

I inhale a sharp breath, stunned. "They've seen Alice." I can hardly believe the words, even as I speak them. "Alice sent them."

A knock on the door punctuates my statement. My father silently glides forward and turns the knob, pulling the door open. His disguised apprehension swiftly morphs into pleased surprise, and a lower-pitched feminine voice greets, "Carlisle."

"Zafrina and Senna!" Wearing a welcoming smile, he moves aside at once, bidding the woman and her companion to enter. Bella lets out a low gasp as she catches her first look of the Amazon coven – and she is not the only one present who is bewildered by their physical appearance.

The two vampires are tall, their limbs elongated to match their long faces, their restless burgundy eyes and lithe, quick movements reminding me of a jungle cat on the prowl. Each woman has coal-black skin, their bodies covered by garments made from animal hides; the taller of the two wears a vest patterned by the clouded spots of a leopard. Both have long, thick ebony hair which one has tied back in a topknot with a braided tail dangling down her back – and the other sports a cluster of loose braids, the ends secured by scraps of leather decorated by colored yarn and beads that glitter in the dim morning light.

"But where is Kachiri?" Carlisle asks them, his brow knitting in confusion as he closes the front door. "I've never seen you three apart."

The woman closest to him – the tallest one with the leopard-skin vest and untamed braided hair – replies, "Alice told us we needed to separate." Her rasping, throaty tone sounds like the rough purr of a jaguar, and she accents certain letters in such a way that makes me wonder if she prefers not to speak at all. "It's uncomfortable to be away from each other, but Alice assured us that you needed us here, while she very much needed Kachiri somewhere else." Bella's eyes dart sideways to mine. "That's all she would tell us," the Amazon vampire goes on, "except that there was a great hurry…?" She trails off, her questioning stare darting around the room as though searching for an explanation.

In unison, I begin to move towards them while Bella takes Renesmee from Jacob's hold, and then the three of us come to a stop before Carlisle and the newcomers.

After a short introduction, Zafrina and Senna listen in calm silence to my story, and then permit Renesmee to use her talent on them in order to convince them of the truth. Zafrina, like many of the others, takes an instant liking to the little girl, and spends the remainder of the day in close proximity – which affords me the opportunity to inquire about her gift.

Bella listens carefully to our conversation from her place beside me, her stance almost mirrored by Senna as she hovers motionlessly just behind Zafrina's right elbow.

"You would like to know what it is that I do?" she inquires, intrigued by my curiosity.

"Yes," I nod in encouragement. "If you don't mind."

As a reply, Zafrina's eyes fall half-closed, and the room around me begins to shimmer, the walls undulating strangely. Reflexively, I wrap my arms around Bella, tucking her slender body into my chest just as the environment transforms – filling with vibrant shades of jade, buttery yellow, and vermilion. Towering, vine-covered trees surround the small clearing I am standing in, and I watch in awe as a red-gold furred monkey leaps across the branches, a scattering of foliage drifting to the ground in its wake.

"What is it?" I hear Bella ask, but I cannot see her. "What's happening to him?"

"You…do not see it, as well?" Zafrina says slowly, puzzled.

"Bella's ability makes her immune to any powers that affect the mind," I tell her. A little disoriented, I come to realize that my arms are still fastened around a soft, well-known form, and I concentrate on the sensation in the hopes of maintaining some sort of equilibrium.

Zafrina chuckles once – a deep, coarse sound. "You have a fascinating gift indeed, young one."

"Thanks," Bella mumbles, but I can hear the buildup of frustration in her voice. It exasperates her when her questions go unanswered. Yet one more trait we have in common.

On a gamble, I shift my footing the tiniest bit, holding on tightly to the slight weight in my embrace, and look up at the shafts of sunlight streaming through the emerald canopy of leaves above me. "It's a very straightforward illusion," I explain to Bella. "She can make most people see whatever she wants them to see – see that, and nothing else." Glancing to the side, I watch a colony of red ants march single-file along the stalk of a large-leaved plant, marveling at the detail. "For example, right now I would appear to be alone in the middle of a rain forest. It's so clear I might possibly believe it," I admit, and then smile, the circle of my arms constricting gently, "except for the fact that I can still feel you in my arms."

The vision wavers, like heat rising from sun-baked pavement, and dissipates. I blink once, focusing initially on the crown of dark hair nestled beneath my chin, and then I look up at Zafrina, returning her grin. "Impressive," I praise her with sincerity.

Unafraid, Renesmee marches over to Zafrina, her tiny face alight with a rapt expression. She reaches out to the dark-skinned vampire, who immediately and with great care lifts the little girl into her arms. "Can I see?" Renesmee asks, her brilliant smile as eager as her soprano voice.

Charmed, Zafrina indulges, "What would you like to see?"

"What you showed Daddy."

Bella tenses against me when Renesmee's deep brown eyes become unfocused, her little rosebud mouth shaping into an 'o' of wonderment. I press my face into Bella's hair, kissing the top of her head, and she relaxes a bit.

Our daughter's heartbeat flutters, and then her grin stretches from ear to ear, the illusion fading from her perception. Turning to look straight into Zafrina's amused scarlet eyes, Renesmee declares firmly, "More."

Thus, the dainty bronze-haired hybrid and the formidable-looking Amazon vampire become nearly inseparable playmates. Because Bella worries about what kind of illusions Zafrina will share with Renesmee, the little girl thinks up a solution: using her gift to show her mother the visions, and then Bella can determine whether or not they are appropriate.

As our daughter continues to be enthralled by Zafrina's _pretty pictures_, I sidle over to Bella and lean down to murmur in her ear, "Let's take advantage of the impromptu babysitter and get out of this house for a while."

She glances up at me, surprised, and tries to disagree. "But –"

"Please, love?" I beseech, gazing deeply into her flame-colored eyes, hoping that I can dazzle her into compliance. "There are too many thoughts inside my head right now; it's hard to think straight." Lowering my voice to the barest whisper, my lips caress her earlobe as I breathe, "I only want to be with you."

Bella shudders in response, and I hold back a smirk as she mutters unsteadily, "You are such a cheater." The rebuke loses most of its ire due to her trembling, though the expressions on her face war between accusation and desire.

I take her hand and lead her towards the back door – Emmett tosses a mental jib at me as we brush past him on our way to the river – and together we bound into the frost-painted trees.

Snowflakes dance lazily through the air as we run, falling from an overcast, slate blue sky. My feet direct our course instinctively, and soon we are standing in the middle of our meadow. The change of season has not diminished its simplistic beauty. A soft, thin covering of white coats the yellowed grass, our footprints already being covered by the fresh snow drifting down upon us, and the needles of the surrounding fir trees are all decorated by sparkling garlands of icicles.

Cottony droplets are clinging to Bella's long dark eyelashes as she raises her head to look up at the sky. Watching her the entire time, I step over to a weathered gray boulder situated at the far end of the meadow and sit down, settling my back against the stone. "Come here," I request to her softly, holding out an arm.

She consents at once, fitting herself against my chest, my legs on either side of her, and I pull her close, burying my nose in her ice-speckled hair.

The snowfall slowly begins to decrease, though we remain for the most part sheltered by the overhanging cleft of rock above us, and Bella picks up my left hand in both of hers, fiddling with my wedding ring again. She has not made a single noise ever since we left the house, and her idle movements as she twirls the band on my third finger are halting, tentative.

Angling my head far to the left, I peer curiously at her profile, half-expecting the pursed lips that she unknowingly tantalizes me with whenever she is deep in thought. "Something's bothering you," I observe, sweeping her windblown tresses over her shoulder. "What is it?"

She blinks rapidly, awakening from her pensive mood, and replies in a hasty, flustered voice, "Huh? I'm fine. Nothing."

I raise an eyebrow ever so slightly. She lowers her gaze, chewing on her bottom lip, a fingernail tapping nervously on the top of my ring. "Bella." The chastisement in my tone as I say her name is gentle, but still demanding. My curiosity is scalding the edges of my mind. "Please tell me."

Sighing very quietly, Bella flips my hand over and traces the lines on my palm with a fingertip, and I struggle to retain my hold on patience. Nearly half a minute passes before she speaks, remarking hesitantly, "Remember when we talked about…me learning how to fight?"

I grow still, staring intently at the side of her face, and hold my breath for a few seconds in order to control my immediate reaction – which is to tell her in no uncertain terms that she will not be putting herself at risk. Once I am fairly convinced that I can respond calmly, I tell her, "Yes."

She twists in my arms, turning her body so that we can see one another face-to-face, and my breath catches in my throat at the timid, hopeful plea lighting up her scarlet eyes. "Do you think that maybe you could teach me now?" she asks.

Disquiet writhes uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach, leaving a sour aftertaste on my tongue that even Bella's succulent fragrance cannot completely obscure. But I cannot refuse her this opportunity to learn how to defend herself; she deserves to know how to keep out of harm's way during a fight. Surely she has gained enough maturity and responsibility to not consciously place her life in jeopardy…

A memory flashes with perfect clarity across my vision. A frightened, pale angel backed against a cliff wall, holding a jagged shard of granite in her hand, the knuckles wrapped inside a thick brace. She rakes the sharpened point of the rock up her other arm, baring the skin, and presses it into the crease in her elbow, preparing to draw blood – an attempt to distract our assailants by sacrificing herself –

I tighten my eyes briefly, willing the image to disappear. Bella will never do something that reckless again. I will not allow it. Focusing on her lovely, anticipating expression, I force my lips to flex into a tiny smile and answer with a nod, "If that's what you want."

Clearly it is, for she scrambles to her feet as soon as the words leave my mouth and flits to the opposite end of the meadow. I follow suit at a slower pace, my feelings of unease and aversion increasing with each step, and come to a stop while Bella continues on, putting some distance between us.

The ground here is more even – the terrain forming a vaguely circular area about twenty yards in diameter. Though it is nowhere near as large as the field we had used for practice in battling the newborn army, it should serve as an adequate space in which I can educate Bella in how to conduct herself in a fight.

She pauses near the tree line and spins on heel to face me, her entire countenance blazing with fierce determination, and a brisk winter wind tosses her dark hair wildly around her slim frame. "I'm ready," she announces, immediately lowering her body into a hunting crouch.

I shake my head at her, resisting the impulse to expel a heavy sigh. Despite her almost unnatural adaptation to vampirism, she still has a propensity to behave like a typical newborn in many ways. "Not like that, Bella," I say quietly, moving towards her.

She cocks her head sideways in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Standing behind her, I hold her arms and pull them farther away from her torso, bending her elbows a little further. "You need to guard your sides just as much as your front," I instruct her, my tone brusque. She notices the change and glances at my expression from the corner of her eye. I inwardly berate myself for allowing my temper to burn against my wife, and then concentrate on softening my voice as I go on. "Straighten up a bit." I lay a palm on the middle of her back, pushing gently, and she uncurls her spine. "That's good; now, move your right foot forward and balance your weight evenly – yes, that's it – in case you have to turn around…" My eyes rake over her posture, trying to ignore the fluid lines of her supple form, and instead evaluate the strategic placement of her limbs. "Perfect," I declare, and give her a crooked smile.

Bella beams proudly. She holds her position while I head back to my previous spot. My instincts rouse as I turn – along with the monster, who rumbles deep inside the darkest shadows of my being – and the muscles corded to my bones tense, molding my body into a familiar combat stance. "Are you ready?" I ask her. Part of me is hoping desperately that she will recant her decision to begin this exercise, but I know that her one-track, extremely stubborn mind will never consider the possibility.

In that fraction of a second as I wait for her reply, I remember the very first time I looked across this meadow and saw her standing there. The sun had been shining brightly on that day, igniting streaks of auburn in her chestnut locks and creating a shimmering halo of gold around her head. Her wide-eyed wonder of both the meadow itself and my sparkling marble skin was a source of indescribable joy for me. She was my sweet, trusting and adorable lamb in that instant, and I loved her all the more.

The memory vanishes in a swirling blast of snow, replaced with the vision in front of me. A graceful, exquisitely beautiful and dangerous predator that is now my equal in many respects and yet so far above me in all the ways that matter looks on with calculating, but still trusting, wide eyes. My love for her is an unending, unquenchable passion that has forged a permanent link from my soul to hers, and dimly I realize that I have started to hinge my sanity on _faith_ – on her promise that we will always be together, whether in this life or the next.

"I'm ready," Bella replies firmly, and I put aside this new revelation for another time.

"All right. When I say 'go', I want you to try and pin me." She nods – though the quick, nervous gulp in her throat gives her away. I murmur in a soothing tone, "It's like hunting, love; allow your instincts to guide you, but not control you. Find a medium between reacting and planning."

"Okay." She inhales a deep breath and slowly lets it out, settling her weight on the balls of her feet.

I wait for another beat, and then say under my breath, "Go."

At once, Bella stalks forward, holding her defensive pose quite well for a novice, and without the use of my gift, I have no foresight as to what she will do next.

Carefully, I sidestep to the right, my eyes locked on her approach. She compensates immediately, adjusting her footing…and I spot a weakness.

She slides her left foot back; I dive at her, fastening my arms around her torso and locking my hands around the opposite wrists, and we fall to the ground.

Without affording her the slightest moment to gain her bearings, I pin her body to the snow-covered grass with mine. She twists to the side, growling involuntarily, and I see my opening to rip into the silken, alabaster skin of her throat with my teeth, severing her head from her shoulders –

Horrified by the workings of my own mind, I leap up and away from her, turning around so she cannot see my expression, which must be contorted by revulsion and shock.

Clenching my fists, I take in a deep, cleansing breath through my nose. The intoxicating aroma of freesia fills my lungs, serving to remind me that I am fighting not an enemy, but Bella –_ my_ Bella – and my thoughts reel, my stomach churning as I recall how the tactical part of my brain had envisioned tearing her apart…

I shudder mightily, flexing my hands in an effort to dispel the urge to destroy something.

A soft rustle echoes behind me. The monster shrieks for me to defend myself, but I shove him back into the shadows, forcing my primal instincts to recede.

I hear Bella breathe in as she sits upright, and can feel her gaze on my back as I stare at the barren landscape, appalled for the first time in a while with my own vicious nature.

"I'm sorry, Bella," I mutter, the apology bathed in pained remorse.

"No, I'm fine." Ice crunches faintly as she gets to her feet, her jacket crackling while she brushes the snow from her clothing. "Let's go again," she says, persistent as ever.

I close my eyes, squeezing them shut tightly to block out the images that are emblazoned on the backs of my lids. "I can't." _I can't pretend to attack you again. It will kill me to see your death – even if it's only imagined._

"What do you mean, you can't?" she asks in bewilderment. "We just started."

I do not answer, continuing to pull in slow breaths of chilled, floral-scented air. I cannot bear to disappoint her, but neither will I subject the both of us to the torture of resuming this training. A ghostly touch of the emptiness I felt last spring in Volterra sends a rush of icy dread through my veins, and I barely hold back another shiver.

"Look," Bella murmurs, her tone soft and persuasive, "I know I'm no good at this," I almost turn around to contradict her, but am afraid of what she will see on my face, "but I can't get better if you don't help me."

When I refuse to respond again, I hear the wind sing around her lithe frame just before she tackles me, and we tumble into the snow. I remain passive, averting my eyes while self-preservation tightens the muscles in my body, attempting to compel me to defend myself. But there is no protection from the divine creature poised above me, straddling my abdomen as she holds my arms to the ground in an unbreakable grip.

I catch a glimpse of her triumphant smile and stay frozen in place while she bends down and presses a gentle kiss to my neck, right above the jugular. "I win," she proclaims smugly.

My competitive streak flares weakly, causing my remote gaze to narrow, but again I do not speak. There are no words that I can offer her that will absolve me of what my sick, blackened mind envisioned while she fought to free herself from my grasp.

Though Bella does not, and will not ever, know what I saw in my mind's eye, she unwittingly shames me further by asking, "Edward? What's wrong? Why won't you teach me?"

The skin on my wrists tingles from the contact with her hands, and my palms sting with want, yearning to touch her as she stares down at me, confused and impatient. If only there were a means to make her understand that although we consciously chose to face each other in a mock-battle, my – _our _– instincts do not differentiate between practice and reality.

It was easier before, when I wrestled with my brothers, to allow the playfulness to control my actions and not visualize the inevitable outcome. Besides, their thoughts are usually so loud that I spend most of my time listening to what they are planning instead of conjuring my own strategy.

But when it is just Bella, I am alone with the monster inside my head. He may have claimed her as his mate, but like with any primal creature, survival supercedes all other natural impulses.

Time lengthens, the seconds stretching out into a whole minute, and finally I summon the courage to reply. My attention focuses on a spot right beside her left cheekbone, unable for the moment to meet her eyes, and my voice is quiet as I admit, "I just can't…bear it. Emmett and Rosalie know as much as I do. Tanya and Eleazar probably know more." Perhaps I can convince her to seek out other help from those who have fewer qualms about demonstrating fighting techniques. "Ask someone else," I say, hearing the plea in my tone, but am confident that Bella will not have noticed.

She huffs, her expression screwing up in frustration. "That's not fair!" she complains. "You're_ good_ at this. You helped Jasper before – you fought with him and all the others, too." An indefinable emotion crosses her features, and she suddenly loosens her grasp on my wrists, placing her hands on her waist. Tilting her head, she frowns, upset by whatever thought has occurred in that fascinating mind of hers. "Why not me?" Bella's red-orange irises cloud with uncertainty. "What did I do wrong?"

Exasperated, I sigh loudly, glaring up at her. Silly girl – automatically assuming that she did something wrong when in fact_ I_ am the one who should be apologizing to _her._

The insecurity that she had somehow displeased me shows plainly on her flawless heart-shaped face, and I quickly soften my gaze, wordlessly consoling her that nothing she could ever do would make me unhappy. Once her expression clears a little, I try to clarify, though the words stick to my tongue, struggling to remain unsaid. "Looking at you that way, analyzing you as a target." The image of my teeth ripping into her throat resurfaces hazily, and a stab of pain lances through my chest. "Seeing all the ways I can kill you…" I flinch. "It just makes it too real for me." I shrug, attempting the lighten the tense atmosphere, and surrender to the desire to put my hands on her hips, holding onto her gently. "We don't have so much time that it will really make a difference who your teacher is," I point out. "Anyone can teach you the fundamentals."

A ridiculously adorable scowl paints Bella's face, twisting her full lips into a pout. Smiling, I lift a hand to touch her protruding bottom lip, enjoying the texture as I run my finger along the soft curve. "Besides, it's unnecessary. The Volturi will stop." Or we will_ make_ them stop. "They will be made to understand."

"But if they don't!" Bella protests. So headstrong, so determined – the light shining from her fierce countenance dazzles my eyes. "I_ need_ to learn this." She frowns down upon me; I refuse to be swayed.

"Find another teacher." _Please,_ I silently add.

She folds her arms over her chest, sulking, and turns her face aside, depriving me of seeing her expression. My fingers dance up her sides, and I surprise her by tugging her body to mine, my arms encircling her slender frame. Bella snuggles her cheek into my collarbone and holds me in return, her hands snaking around my torso. I rest my head atop hers, grateful that despite the fiasco our practice session turned out to be, we can still enjoy a brief reprieve in each other's company amid the peaceful stillness of winter.

Of course, once we get back to the house, Bella literally pounces on the opportunity to resume her _education,_ per se. She latches onto one of Emmett's massive arms and beseeches him to help her. He jumps at the chance to dish out some payback, since she is still considerably stronger than him – not to mention his wounded pride as a result of the arm-wrestling match – and the two of them spend the remainder of the daylight hours sparring in the open area beside the river.

As a result of her newfound diligence, Bella becomes the epitome of a good student throughout the next few days, more persistent than ever in learning how to fight. After several sessions with Emmett, she then calls upon Rosalie to teach her a subtler attack pattern – and both she and Bella conspire against me throughout their lesson, attempting to sway me from my decision to abstain from instructing my wife myself – with no success.

Eventually, Rose decides to summon Tanya and Eleazar, and both of them graciously agree to help out with Bella's training. Renesmee and I look on while Tanya explains how to read an assailant's body language – whether there is an opening to attack or a need to stay defensive – and Eleazar instructs Bella on how to divide her attention between a one-on-one battle while keeping an eye on her surroundings at the same time, lest she stumble into another brawl accidentally.

Even Garrett pitches in; he has a certain fondness for Bella that stems from her unique reactions to circumstances, and his presence among the group is never a hindrance, as it might be for a less sociable nomad. And Zafrina takes a turn as well, though quite frankly my nerves are stretched as tight as piano wires while my Bella challenges the fearsome, dark-skinned Amazon, but she comes away from the experience with an improved appreciation of her smaller size, having learned a couple evasion maneuvers from Zafrina.

One afternoon, Kate wanders into the backyard, watching Bella and her band of instructors with a thoroughly bored expression. Inspired by my cousin's appearance, I call out, "Bella, why don't you take a break from fighting practice and work with Kate on projecting your shield?" Kate's golden eyes blink once at me, startled. I keep my attention fixed on Bella.

Her reddish-orange irises light up, and she immediately motions for Kate to join her while the others clear a space.

A hand unexpectedly snags my wrist, pulling hard. "Come on, Edward," Kate mutters as she drags me with her towards Bella. "We'll need a second opinion to make sure her projection is working." Her thoughts are flying – but I determine the outcome of her internal calculations all the same.

Stopping beside Bella, who peers sidelong at Kate and I in confusion, I raise an eyebrow and remark, "So that's my purpose in this exercise? Guinea pig?"

"Do you have another suggestion?" Kate counters. She tightens her mouth, trying to mask the amused smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

I sigh, defeated. "Not really."

"Wait." Bella's head whips from side to side, staring first at me, then at Kate, and back again. "What?"

I turn to her, moving aside a strand of hair from her cheek as I explain. "In order to project your shield, you need to have someone nearby who can tell if it's working. Kate is going to use her ability on me, and you will have to protect me from it." I smile at her, though her lips have parted in horror as I finished speaking, and add teasingly, "Quite the reversal of roles for you and I."

"No," Bella retorts sharply. "No." Her eyes flash over to Kate. "Not that way. Why can't Zafrina just use her gift instead?"

I notice a strange, poignant undercurrent of fear in her tone. Part of me wonders where it comes from, and the other part squirms with unease, believing that I know her fear's origin all too well.

"You need better motivation than just shielding Edward from an illusion." Kate's pale features soften a little as she meets Bella's wide eyes. "I know you hate seeing him in pain. But just think:" she goes on earnestly, "once you get a handle on your ability, no one will be able to hurt him. Not even Jane."

The barest wince crosses Bella's face when Kate mentions Jane, but then her eyes tighten and she looks up at me, asking, "Are you okay with this?"

"Of course, love." Reaching for her hand, I cradle it in mine and bring it to my lips, kissing her knuckles tenderly. "If it will help you hone your talent, then I can handle a couple of electric shocks."

"It may be more than a 'couple'," Kate mentions blithely. Bella fixes her with a hard stare. "Oh, don't worry – I'll keep it on a low setting. It will feel like a zap of static electricity." _To start with, anyway, _she amends silently, and I give her a warning glare. She merely grins toothily in response.

Taking in a deep breath, Bella squares her shoulders and adopts the now-familiar expression of fierce determination. "Right." Then she frowns uncertainly. "Should I…touch his arm or something?"

Eleazar speaks up from several feet away, answering, "Since this is the first time you've attempted to shield someone other than yourself, you'll need to stay as close to Edward as possible so that it extends to him, too."

With a short nod, Bella spins on heel to stand in front of me, her slender arms wrapping tightly around my waist. Instinctively, my arms raise to embrace her – but as I remember that I will be on the receiving end of Kate's power, it would probably be better if I do not hold onto Bella on the off chance that I might inadvertently hurt her. So instead, I offer her a crooked smile. "You can do this," I murmur in encouragement.

Kate ambles closer; Bella eyes her warily. "The first thing you need to do," the blonde vampire says in a businesslike tone, "is to get a sense of how your shield works. Try to visualize it around you."

Bella's eyelids fall half-closed, her brows drawing together, and her grip on my body constricts just noticeably. "I…think –" she grits out through her teeth.

"Then let's give it a try." A palm touches my shoulder, and my nerves abruptly sizzle, pain shooting along my arm all the way to the tips of my fingers. I hiss, squeezing my eyes shut to keep from breaking free of Bella's grasp.

Gasping, Bella removes her arms from my waist and cries, "I'm sorry!" Then she pivots on one foot to give Kate a positively murderous stare. "You could've given me a little more time," she accuses.

Kate shrugs, not bothered in the least by the small brunette's threatening demeanor. "Like I said," she comments, "motivation."

A low growl rumbles in Bella's throat. She whirls back around to face me and enfolds my waist in her arms, pressing herself against my chest as if her body could shield me from Kate's gift as well, and frowns in concentration. After several seconds, she mutters to Kate, "Again."

For almost three days, with brief periods of rest and hunting in between, I am the recipient of over a thousand shocks, each one at varying levels of intensity despite Kate's assurance to Bella that it would be 'low', and I have only been shielded from less than half of those shocks by Bella's gift.

She is doing remarkably well for a newborn, but her shield is sporadic – and not always entirely impenetrable. Sometimes she succeeds in protecting me completely from being shocked, and other times she has lessened the pain but not negated it. She apologizes every time I so much as flinch, her perfect face contorting into a mask of anguish, and I do all I can to comfort her.

"It's fine, love," I tell her, leaning down to press my lips on the worried crease between her eyebrows. "You're doing so well. I'm proud of you." I stroke her cheek with the back of my hand.

"But you're still getting hurt," she whimpers. "It's just so _hard._ Sometimes I think I've got it, and then the stupid thing snaps back…like a rubber band. I can't hold onto it."

"You're learning," I remind her gently. She groans a little and drops her head onto my chest as though exhausted, and I chuckle under my breath. "Don't be so critical of yourself, Bella. You'll figure this out soon enough. I have faith in you."

"You're just saying that because you're my husband." The grumbled words are muffled by the fabric of my shirt.

Shaking my head, I allow my arms to enfold her supple frame, pulling her closer. "One of many reasons, love." I bury my face in her silky brown locks, filling my lungs with the enticing scent of freesia.

The sound of a throat being cleared causes us to awaken from our reverie. Kate crosses her arms over her chest, her cornsilk hair swirling in a breeze, and quirks an eyebrow sardonically. "If you're ready…"

A soft chorus of laughter follows Kate's statement. Our practice sessions have drawn a small audience in the last day or so. Eleazar, Carmen, and Tanya have been joined by Garrett, Benjamin, Tia, Siobhan, Maggie – and even Alistair has taken an interest as he peers down from a third story window.

Bella adjusts her hold around my torso, her expression collapsing into a deep grimace, and jerks her chin up and down once. Kate places her hand on my shoulder. A tiny wave of electricity skitters across my arm – nowhere near as strong as the last one. "Hey," I announce cheerily, pleased that my voice sounds relatively normal. "That one barely stung. Good job, Bella."

She inhales through her nose, her small hands clenching into fists that I can feel against the small of my back, and orders with a quiet grunt, "Again, Kate."

I hold my breath, trying to brace myself while not locking down the muscles in my body – I do not want to discourage Bella – as Kate touches my shoulder once again.

There is not so much as a whisper of pain registering to my raw nerves.

I sigh, relieved. "Nothing that time," I declare, glancing over at Kate, who lifts her palm with mild surprise.

_Really…_ She lifts a flaxen eyebrow. "That wasn't low, either." _Unless you have a high tolerance for pain, cousin, _she taunts mildly. _Which may be the case since you're sharing your bed with a newborn._

As I shoot her a withering glare, Bella tells her in a breathless voice, "Good."

"Get ready." Kate pauses for a whole second – Bella scrunches her eyes shut – and I feel a faint pressure on my upper arm.

Then, an explosion of white-hot fire races through my entire body, and every muscle grows taut in reaction to the pain. A shudder ripples along my spine, and I suck in a breath, the air hissing between my gritted teeth.

Bella clutches me to her as I sag a little, my knees weakening; Kate apologizes with her thoughts and takes a step back while I focus on holding onto Bella in an effort to regain my bearings. "Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!" she repeats, a heartbroken lament, biting her lower lip as she hangs her head in misery.

At once, I put aside my physical discomfort and hug her tight to my chest; she presses her face into the hollow below my collarbone, still mumbling with needless guilt. "You're doing an amazing job, Bella," I tell her sincerely, laying my cheek on the crown of her head, and her hushed voice falls silent. "You've really only been working at this for a few days and you're already projecting sporadically." She truly is an extraordinary creature, and the pride and contentment I feel in knowing that she is mine, that I belong to her, only increases my adoration of the woman who brought my frozen, dead heart back to life.

Angling my head a little, I kiss Bella's forehead and then glance sideways at Kate, whose facial expression is amused, but her eyes are two shards of deep, unreadable topaz. "Kate," I invite in a lighter tone, "tell her how well she's doing."

My cousin purses her lips, and the inner monologue of her thoughts suddenly changes to Slovak – a clear sign that she is hiding something from me. I narrow my gaze at her while she remarks casually, "I don't know. She's obviously got tremendous ability, and we're only beginning to touch it." Kate puts her hands on her hips and lifts one shoulder in a faint shrug. "She can do better, I'm sure. She's just lacking incentive."

The slender figure nestled against me goes rigid, and Bella's head snaps up, her disbelief plain on her heart-shaped face even as her full lips curl away from her teeth. Unfazed, Kate holds her stare for half a second before her attention shifts in the direction of the riverbank behind us. Murmurings from our gathered audience, all of them in favor of Bella's tremendous effort thus far, melt into a quiet hum as Kate gives away her intentions by mentioning a single word – a name – in her nearly indistinguishable thoughts.

"Kate…" I begin to warn her, but the lithe blonde is already in motion. Sprinting along the curve of the river, she slows to a halt in front of Senna and Zafrina, the latter holding hands with Renesmee. Jacob, who is shadowing the little girl a few paces behind, tenses and then relaxes as Kate approaches the group.

"Nessie," Kate says brightly, "would you like to come help your mother?"

Renesmee smiles her glittering smile and nods eagerly just as Bella snarls in refusal. "No."

I pull her close in an attempt to soothe her swiftly burning temper, but she jerks free from my arms, her teeth bared in a vicious scowl as Renesmee darts across the snow-covered field, making a beeline for her mother. "Absolutely not, Kate," Bella says threateningly as the blonde vampire and the two Amazons follow after our daughter, and I watch her carefully, noticing how her stance is subtly transitioning into an aggressive crouch.

Bronze ringlets wafting out behind her like a banner, Renesmee leaps into her mother's open arms and cuddles into her embrace, tucking her head under Bella's chin. "But Momma," she proclaims in a determined voice, "I_ want_ to help." Her tiny palm touches Bella's neck, showing her a collage of images of them together, a strong desire to help coloring her thoughts.

Bella shakes her head vehemently. "No." A sudden movement catches her eye, and she jerks backward a step while Kate slides one foot forward, an outstretched hand held out in front of her.

My initial instinct is to protect my family from potential danger, and my body starts to lean into a defensive pose, ready to block Kate's advance._ Stay where you are, Edward,_ she cautions mentally. _This is the only way she's going to learn how to control her power._

Though it challenges every natural reaction in my entire being, I keep myself rooted in place while Bella continues to retreat. "Stay away from us, Kate," she hisses through her clenched teeth.

"No." Smiling a predatory grin, Kate deliberately lowers herself into a crouch and stalks forward, the ends of her cornsilk blonde hair crackling with static electricity as she primes the energy that fuels her talent, channeling a current into her raised palm.

Without taking her eyes off her adversary, Bella guides Renesmee's small form around her torso so that the little girl is curled against her back, her tiny arms and legs locking around Bella's body as she peers with wide dark eyes at the approaching vampire.

Once her hands are free, Bella spreads her arms in the position she learned from me days ago in our meadow, and as the seconds tick by I watch her expression shift with growing apprehension.

Her sunset-colored irises seem to darken and smolder at the same time, her lowered brow casting a slight shadow over her eyes, and her nose wrinkles like a lioness on the hunt as her lips are drawn even further away from her exposed teeth. Her widely spread fingers begin to tremble, and she inhales a quick breath, her eyes widening a bit in what appears to be surprise.

A scorching flash of rage instantly devours that emotion as Kate inches closer. A harsh roar rips itself from Bella's mouth, the sheer ferocity of the noise prompting me to advise my cousin. "Be careful, Kate."

Kate slinks forward another step – then, completely unaware of the hostility emanating from the newborn vampire only a short distance away – she turns to look at me. "Can you hear anything from Nessie?" she asks calmly.

While she is speaking, Bella senses her opportunity to strike and pulls her knees downward, preparing to spring on the inattentive blonde. Several minds shout warnings to me, but before Bella can fully formulate the path of her leap, I place myself in the open space separating them, my body an obstacle for Bella's line of sight to Kate.

Glaring sternly at her, I answer Kate's question. "No, nothing at all." The tenor of Renesmee's thoughts winked out at the same time that Bella seemed to be surprised at something, which I suspect is the enhanced power of her shield. "Now give Bella some space to calm down, Kate," I order, my voice low and hard. "You shouldn't goad her like that. I know she doesn't seem her age, but she's only a few months old."

Kate immediately retorts, her tone matching mine, "We don't have time to do this gently, Edward. We're going to have to push her." _Even you cannot deny that Bella's ability could very well be our only line of defense against the Volturi guard._ "We only have a few weeks," she continues aloud, "and she's got the potential to –"

The heaving breaths of the provoked newborn behind me are shot through by a rumbling, animalistic growl. As exceptional as she is, Bella has neither the discipline nor the practice in controlling the blood lust brought on by pure, undiluted fury. I cut off Kate's reasoning with a sharp rebuke, widening my stance a bit in case Bella is able to slip past my guard, "Back off for a minute, Kate."

Though she frowns in frustration, Kate straightens from her crouch and lowers her hand. _You know I'm right, _she snipes inwardly. _You can't protect her forever, Edward – not even from herself._

Perhaps not. But I will be damned if I stop trying.

"Kate," Bella calls out, her wind chime voice warped by the grating sound of resentment. The ground shifts infinitesimally beneath her muted approach, and my nerve endings fizzle in anticipation as her palm settles into the slight curve at the small of my back. She inhales, the air entering and leaving her lungs at a faster pace than before, as if she is winded, and then commands, "Again. Edward only," she adds, the warning glaringly obvious in her tone.

Rolling her eyes, Kate darts forward and lays her slender hand on my shoulder. _Well? _

"Nothing," I reply with a smile. Bella's fingertips press further into my skin, her breath hissing through her teeth.

With her hand still resting on top of my shoulder, Kate amplifies the electric charge passing through her body and asks, "And now?"

"Still nothing." My smile tilts to one side while I quirk a smug eyebrow at her.

Like a high voltage pylon, the current of energy radiating a few centimeters from Kate's alabaster skin heats the atmosphere surrounding the four of us. "And now?" Her voice is strained by exertion as she channels a sizeable amount of her full power into her palm.

"Nothing at all."

Kate grunts in defeat and backs away, her hand falling to her side with a dull thump. I scarcely resist the impulse to spin around and embrace my Bella; her fearless determination is a source of never-ending pride and admiration for me, and I wish that I could have even a fraction of her indomitable spirit.

Intrigued by this outcome, Zafrina summons an illusion in her mind and pushes it towards us. "Can you see this?" she questions in her throaty, deep voice, her ruby eyes staring intently at the three of us.

I shake my head fractionally. "I don't see anything I shouldn't."

"And you, Renesmee?"

Now that my daughter and I are encased within Bella's shield together, I find that I am able to hear her thoughts once again. Convinced that this is a great game, I sense the little girl's amusement as she also shakes her head at the dark-skinned vampire, her cheek brushing against her mother's neck.

The pressure behind the hand resting on my back has increased in the last few seconds, as if Bella is trying to support her weight by leaning on my body, and her quick breaths have turned into panting. I can only imagine the Herculean effort she is utilizing to maintain the protective barrier encircling us.

I am about to suggest that she take a break when Zafrina announces, her mind humming with speculation, "No one panic. I want to see how far she can extend."

With that, a curtain of blindness falls over the group surrounding the little practice field. Each of them gasps, shocked, as their view of the world disappears, and I pause for a moment to filter out their mental exclamations from my head.

"Raise your hand when you get your sight back," Zafrina tells the small group, and then levels a serious, unblinking gaze at Bella. "Now, Bella. See how many you can shield." She motions with one hand toward the anxious vampires scattered throughout the clearing.

A puff of air caresses the back of my neck as Bella releases a breath. I hear her teeth grinding against one another while she concentrates, and I studiously monitor the others' thoughts, waiting for any indication that her shield has swollen to include another.

Kate is the first. Her eyelids flutter, her vision refocusing on the snowy backdrop, and she slowly raises a hand as Bella groans very softly in relief.

It really is quite a marvel how Bella's mental shield works. I say as much in a low voice while she leans more heavily on my body, her panting breaths stirring my hair like a tepid breeze. "Fascinating! It's like one-way glass. I can read everything they're thinking, but they can't reach me behind it. And I can hear Renesmee, though I couldn't when I was on the outside." A thoughtful hum vibrates in my throat. "I'll bet Kate could shock me now, because she's underneath the umbrella."

Sifting briefly through the din echoing inside my head, I feel only a small pang of disappointment that the one mind I am so desperate to hear is still not present. "I still can't hear you…" I admit to Bella, my eyes narrowing as I consider the probable reasons for her continued silence. "Hmmm. How does that work? I wonder if…" Perhaps there is another layer to her mind's protection – a secondary barrier that acts involuntarily to safeguard her consciousness from attack or infiltration. It makes sense, I suppose.

Garrett lifts his hand a moment later, a slight half-smile on his face. Zafrina nods once in satisfaction and offers a word of praise to Bella. "Very good. Now –"

A sharp gasp cuts across Zafrina's statement, and my vision suddenly goes black, along with the three others that Bella had been shielding. Renesmee panics, crying out for help with her mind; Bella huffs wearily, and our daughter's fearful thoughts vanish from my perception, her mother's ability protecting her from the illusion once again.

"Can I have a minute?" Bella pleads, sounding absolutely exhausted – though, of course, that exhaustion is purely mental. Almost the entire length of her slender body is pressed against mine, seeking support, and her palm slides from my back as she heaves a tired sigh.

"Of course." Zafrina dispels her illusion immediately after agreeing to Bella's request, and everyone starts to relax, their sight returning as easily as flicking on a light switch in a dark room.

Disconcerted by the moment of weakness they endured during Zafrina's experiment, our audience mutters quietly to one another as they leave the field. I turn around and move close to Bella, our shoulders touching, and lean over to kiss the top of her head. As I am about to tell her how incredible she is to have made this much progress in such a short time, I hear Garrett's mind enflame with curiosity. My eyes flash over to the tall vampire just as he calls out, "Kate."

"I wouldn't, Garrett," I say as a warning, seeing his course of action within his thoughts.

He ignores me, his scarlet-colored irises bright as he walks up to Kate, pursing his lips in contemplation while she watches his approach with raises eyebrows. "They say you can put a vampire flat on his back," he remarks.

I barely hold back a derisive snort. What does he think that I have been putting up with for the past three days, not to mention the last five hours? He only wants an excuse to speak with the willowy blonde; he is far more curious about her in general than he is about her ability.

Kate, appreciative of his interest and a master of flirtatious dealings, nods her head once in agreement. "Yes." A crooked, wily smile plays across her mouth, and she lifts her hand, wiggling the fingers at him as she asks mischievously, "Curious?"

Shrugging, he replies in a casual tone, "That's something I've never seen." _I know she was holding back with Edward,_ he murmurs inwardly. _But still –_ "Seems like it might be a bit of an exaggeration…" he trails off, eyeing her in dubious speculation.

In the blink of an eye, Kate's expression of playful teasing dissolves into bland seriousness. "Maybe. Maybe it only works on the weak or the young. I'm not sure." A wicked notion materializes in her mind, and though she controls her outward appearance, inside, she is cackling with glee. "You look strong, though," she tells Garrett, appraising him with twinkling ocher eyes. "Perhaps you could withstand my gift." Kate stretches out her hand, palm forward, and stares expectantly at the sandy-haired vampire. Her lips tremble just noticeably as she fights back a grin, certain that Garrett is setting himself up for a fall, and she funnels a potent dose of her ability into her offered hand.

Confident as ever, Garrett smiles broadly at Kate, intent on meeting her challenge. With his index finger, he touches the middle of her palm.

The burning explosion of electricity surges into his body and he gasps, his knees buckling. In less than a second, every nerve is temporarily deadened, and he falls backward – an immobile statue. His head slams into an unfortunate hunk of granite, and the stone splits with a loud crack. Bella flinches slightly beside me; it can be unsettling to witness the debilitation of another immortal. However, I_ did_ try to warn him.

"I told you so," I mutter under my breath to the prone vampire on the snow-covered ground.

Several seconds pass, marked by the quivering of Garrett's closed eyelids and his astonished thoughts. Kate cranes her neck to peer down at him, a satisfied smirk on her pale face, and she puts her hands on her hips, looming over Garrett like a conquering warrior.

His eyes snap open, widening in awe as he stares up at the first vampire – and a woman, at that – who has ever succeeded in knocking him down. "Wow," he breathes with a smile.

Kate's smirk wanes, and she quirks an eyebrow skeptically. "Did you enjoy that?" she asks, her tone implying that she doubts his sanity.

"I'm not crazy," he assures her, laughing, and shakes his head as he rolls onto his knees, "but that sure was something!"

"That's what I hear." Kate moves back a half step, giving him room to stand, her gaze roving over his body while she considers the possibility of their mutual interest in one another being more than that of friendly acquaintances. _I like him, _she declares after a minute or so.

I roll my eyes. For a fleeting, blissful moment, I had actually forgotten that living with the Denali clan is like sharing quarters with a gaggle of sorority sisters.

An outbreak of surprise and suspicion unexpectedly fills my head while a low hum of voices resonates from the front of the house. Trying to sort through the chaos, I then hear my father ask, his tone uncertain and troubled, "Did Alice send you?" Before he has finished speaking, he calls mentally, _Edward, come inside._

The background blurs into a wash of muted colors as I sprint to the back door, overtaking Tanya and Siobhan in the process, and dart inside. Carlisle is standing at the front door, his posture tense, addressing two black-clothed figures. Without pause, I reach out to their minds while threading through the crowd gathered in the living room to join Emmett as he sets himself defensively behind our father.

The pair of vampires on our doorstep are very old, their papery white skin and shrewd thinking reminiscent of Aro and Caius. Both glance fleetingly in my direction as I take a spot beside Carlisle's right elbow, their deep burgundy eyes unusually clear given their age – I had been expecting the thin, milky film that coats the eyes of the Volturi brothers.

Though each newcomer is shorter than myself and very thin, their limbs wiry, their appearances are exact opposites in every other way. The one directly in front of Carlisle has dark, nearly black hair, and the other's ash blonde tresses seem almost a pale gray in the filtered sunlight of the overcast sky.

But it is the tenor of their inward musings that bothers me. These two ancients came halfway around the world from Romania after receiving word of an assembly of immortals, whose objective is to challenge the authority of the Volturi. Having seen the group of vampires clustered together in the house, both Romanians are silently rejoicing, eager to exact their own vengeance on Aro and his brothers.

The dark one shifts his focus back to Carlisle. "No one sent us," he answers, and the brittle, whispery voice – like an icy wind blowing through the bare branches of a dead tree – sends a prickle of caution down my spine.

Acting purely on instinct, I latch onto the familiar consciousness of my daughter, siphoning her mind out from the din of the group. I exhale an inaudible sigh of relief; she and Bella are huddled together in the kitchen, just inside the doorway. Renesmee looks up, and Bella's eyes are wide and apprehensive as she presses her back against the corner wall, listening to what is unfolding in the other room.

_Their names are Stefan and Vladimir,_ my father tells me as he studies the Romanians for a fraction of a second. _They have held a grudge against the Volturi for over a millennium._ Aloud, he inquires warily, "Then what brings you here now?"

"Word travels," the blonde one replies, his voice almost exactly the same as his companion's. "We heard hints that the Volturi were moving against you. There were whispers that you would not stand alone." A ghostly hint of a smile twists his thin lips. "Obviously, the whispers were true. This is an impressive gathering," he concludes, pleased.

_These two are expecting a war,_ Carlisle remarks adversely in his mind. "We are not challenging the Volturi," he says in a slow, stressed tone. "There has been a misunderstanding, that is all. A very serious misunderstanding, to be sure, but one we're hoping to clear up." He gestures to the side – at the crowded room filled with uneasy vampires. "What you see are witnesses," my father assures, but the Romanian's expressions and thoughts do not change; in fact, they seem a bit…amused…at Carlisle's peaceable manner. "We just need the Volturi to listen. We didn't –"

"We don't care what they say you did," the dark one interrupts. The truth is obvious in his calculating mind, as is the malice he harbors toward the Volturi. "And we don't care if you broke the law."

The blonde one adds, "No matter how egregiously."

"We've been waiting a millennium and a half for the Italian scum to be challenged," the dark one goes on, hatred laced into every word. "If there is any chance they will fall, we will be here to see it."

"Or even to help defeat them," the blonde one inserts, his dark crimson irises glowing with feral hope. Then he amends, "If we think you have a chance of success."

I am through playing word games with these two ancients; I had more than my fill of such exercises in Volterra. Narrowing my eyes at our 'guests', I call out in a tight voice, "Bella? Bring Renesmee here, please. Maybe we should test our Romanian visitors' claims."

Tension is thick in the room as Bella carries Renesmee through the small crowd, heading straight for Carlisle and I at the front door. Though I do not relinquish my attention from the two Romanians, I note with grim satisfaction that most of the surrounding vampires are deeply distrustful of the new arrivals – and I can tell by their thoughts and the subtle movements of the hardwood floor that Carmen, Tanya, Zafrina, and Senna have adjusted their positions to form a loose, protective circle around my wife and daughter.

"Well, well, Carlisle," the dark one remarks, grinning as he eyes the bronze-haired child clutched in Bella's rigid arms. "You_ have_ been naughty, haven't you?"

"She's not what you think, Stefan," my father says at once.

"And we don't care either way." The blonde one shifts his gaze from Renesmee to Carlisle, raising his ash-colored eyebrows ever so slightly. "As we said before."

Their minds are synchronous on this point: it honestly does not concern them in any way if we have broken the taboo of creating an immortal child or not. The Romanians exist by the rule that _the end justifies the means._ If our supposed breach of the law leads the Volturi to confront us, then Stefan and Vladimir will use that knowledge to their advantage. They mean no harm to us…but it is extremely questionable as to whether or not they will ally themselves with our family if it comes to a fight.

Since I offer no contradiction to their words, Carlisle declares firmly, "Then you're welcome to observe, Vladimir, but it is definitely not our plan to challenge the Volturi, as_ we_ said before." His face hardens as he speaks, and his eyes are icy chips of polished topaz.

Bizarrely entertained by Carlisle's fervor and the heightened protectiveness that everyone seems to feel for Renesmee, Stefan comments in an offhand tone, "Then we'll just cross our fingers."

"And hope we get lucky," Vladimir concludes with an enigmatic smile.

Hope. It has become a staying force ever since the first of our witnesses arrived. In the end, there are a total of twenty-eight vampires residing on the Olympic Peninsula – the largest cooperative gathering of our kind in history, with the exception of the Volturi.

Hope begins to weave its spell through everyone's mind, whispering words of support while Bella practices using her shield and Benjamin commands the winds to stir up a cyclone – while Renesmee continues in her accelerated growth – even while the Romanians watch all our movements in silence, convinced in their minds that we have the resources to dethrone their hated enemies.

And my hope… my hope lies with Bella.

While I want more than anything to preserve our daughter's life and the lives of our family, I cannot pretend that the hope of forcing the Volturi to listen is any guarantee of survival – I have been a cynic for far too long to cling to such a fragile hope too tightly.

No, the hope I am beginning to depend on is the promise of forever with my Bella. Though some part of me continues to doubt that I can ever be worthy of heaven – and it is certain that my sole definition of heaven includes Bella – I cannot dismiss the fact that we have passed through so many testing fires together and emerged stronger. Even when I was convinced that she was gone, somehow, we found each other again.

Bella entrusted her soul to me the moment she sat down in the only empty seat in a Biology classroom; I gave her mine, such as it is, on a moonless night as she breathed my name in her sleep.

We no longer belong to ourselves…so how could my soul be taken, cast down into the blackest pit of hell, when hers has completed it? What has been made whole can never be separated.

_Naïve. Foolish. Unworthy,_ the specter of doubt mutters to me.

Then so be it.

I would rather be a naïve fool believing in an illogical hope than face the possibility of a barren eternity of suffering without Bella – my angel, my midnight sun.

We all hope for something. Without it, there is no reason to the world. Our hopes are as different as we are, but it is the one emotion that binds us together, that makes us feel _alive._

And so, we hope.

Sometimes it is the only thing we can do.

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**Author's Note:** So, now you can see why I needed to break this into two chapters; there is quite a bit going on behind the scenes.

I really enjoyed writing the fighting practice session between Edward and Bella. It intrigued me as to what he might have been thinking during that moment when I read _Breaking Dawn_, and I tried my best to interpret it through his eyes.

The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 612-628.


	15. Secrets

**Chapter Notes:** Please accept my deepest apologies for withholding an update this long. In my defense, there are several threads of side-plots in this chapter that I was wrestling to weave into the main story line, and I think I finally succeeded in bringing them all together.

There are also a few moments in this chapter that I am quite proud of, and naturally, I had loads of fun playing with a bunch of secondary characters.

And thank you all for your continued support and encouragement. Now, get reading – and please review!

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Despite their assurances that it is irrelevant what we had done to provoke the Volturi, Stefan and Vladimir eventually submit to their curiosity about Renesmee and ask for an explanation as to how she came into being.

After repeating the same story I had given the others, Renesmee stretches out a tiny palm, offering the Romanians the chance to experience her gift. Both refuse – but I discern from their thoughts that it is not because they harbor some aversion to her, but in fact they have a significant hatred for any talent that remotely resembles Aro's. Fifteen hundred years of animosity has shaped their opinion of all mental abilities through which one's thoughts are exposed.

I wonder how they will perceive me once they realize what I can do…not that it matters.

Fascinated by the unexpected additions to our group of witnesses, Renesmee asks aloud, the sound of her pure soprano voice causing most of the surrounding vampires to pause and listen, "Why is your skin so different from everyone else's?"

Bella winces in chagrin, but the Romanians are not offended by our daughter's rather blunt question. In fact, their thoughts are vaguely shadowed with remorse. Before I can determine the source of the emotion, an image fills my head of an ancient castle built into the cleft of a jagged mountainside.

It quickly vanishes into another image – this one of a rectangular space lit by torches and constructed of slabs of gray-brown stone. Two chairs sit on a raised dais in the center of the room, decorated by scarlet cushions that mimic the few splatters of dried blood on the floor. Then, Vladimir answers, "We sat still for a very long time, child." Stefan nods in agreement but stays silent as his companion goes on quietly, his burgundy eyes distant, "Contemplating our own divinity."

Quite a few minds scoff at that – Jacob covers the bottom half of his face to stifle a disbelieving snort – but Renesmee pays attention with sincere interest, even as her mother's expression twists a bit in response.

"It was a sign of our power that everything came to us," Vladimir says in a whispery, reflective tone, and a faint smile crosses his white lips. "Prey, diplomats, those seeking our favor. We sat on our thrones and thought ourselves gods." He sighs very quietly. "We didn't notice for a long time that we were changing – almost petrifying. I suppose the Volturi did us one favor when they burned our castles." The stark contrast of vivid yellow-orange flames against a black sky emphasizes his statement, but the lingering sadness flavoring the memory is swallowed up by a grim sense of satisfaction. "Stefan and I, at least, did not continue to petrify. Now the Volturi's eyes are filmed with dusty scum, but ours are bright." He pauses for a beat, and then murmurs, even as he envisions the scenario inside his mind, "I imagine that will give us an advantage when we gouge theirs from their sockets."

Horror flashes briefly in Bella's wide eyes before she adopts a polite smile and invents an excuse to remove Renesmee from the Romanian's company. The little girl starts to protest, but is immediately cowed by the stern, narrow-eyed glare of her mother. She makes no effort to appeal to me; she knows that Bella and I are in total concert when it comes to parenting, and we will not contradict the other's decision.

We spend the rest of the day mingling with our family and guests, giving Bella some time to replenish her mental energy from practicing her shield, and make our way back to the cottage a little after midnight, toting a barely awake Renesmee.

Once she is settled in her crib, I use the remaining hours of the night to demonstrate my love for Bella – telling her without words how proud I am of her, how I am beginning to accept her promise of hope for an eternity together – and we do not separate until the sky has lightened to a pale, wintry gray.

"I'd like to take Renesmee to see Charlie today," Bella announces from nowhere as we are preparing to leave the cottage. Surprised, I stare down at her in silence as she helps our daughter put on her shoes, and she looks up with raised eyebrows when I do not reply. "Is that okay?" she asks, a little uncertain.

I shake off the effects of my surprise and give her a tender smile. "Of course it's all right if you want to see your father, love. I was just a little…startled that you would want to visit him today."

"Well…" She picks up Renesmee, the movement briefly hiding her expression from my view. "I thought it'd be better if I went to him rather than him deciding to come here." Turning sideways, she flips her dark hair over a shoulder and peers at me with a serious, earnest gaze. "I know that everyone promised not to kill anyone in a three-hundred-mile radius, but since Charlie's on the need-to-know plan, I didn't think that introducing him to a bunch of visiting vampires was a good idea." Her nose wrinkles a bit as she concludes her reasoning, and I lean down to kiss the tip, savoring the silky feel of her skin.

"Point taken," I agree softly. A look of relief crosses her perfect features, but it is wiped away before I can even begin to puzzle out the motives behind such an expression. I watch her eyes carefully as I tell her in a quiet voice, "I think it would be best, however, if I stay here and 'hold down the fort', as it were."

Flashing her a crooked grin, I notice the infinitesimal widening of her pupils – as if she is bewildered that I am volunteering to remain behind. Though I cannot deny that any absence from Bella is not painful, creating an ache in my chest that marks the scar I had rent when I tore myself from her, it is overshadowed by the conviction that she will always come back to me.

But, it seems odd that Bella would be expecting me to insist on accompanying her to her father's house. Is she looking for an excuse to be apart from me for a few hours? Should I rescind my offer to stay and ask to come along? What reason would I give her then?

I go on, explaining, "Having a mind reader on call in a houseful of vampires is a useful tool for avoiding any potential difficulties. Besides, I'd like to talk to Carlisle about the location for our meeting with the Volturi. In the vision, it looked like the same field where we had fought the newborns. It's probably the best choice, since we already know the area so well."

She nods in acceptance, and we begin our journey back to the house. Neither of us seems to feel the need to speak, though I keep stealing sidelong glances at Bella's face, wondering what is going on inside that enigmatic mind of hers.

After about half a dozen of these furtive looks, she shifts Renesmee to one arm and wraps the other around my waist, tucking herself into my side. While she makes no attempt to start a conversation, I have a feeling that she is trying to assuage my incessant curiosity in regard to her thoughts. There is something almost _apologetic _in her hold, and I press my lips into her hair, breathing in her sweet scent.

Once we are inside, Renesmee fairly jumps out of her mother's arms to greet Zafrina. The tall, dark-skinned vampire sweeps the little girl into her long arms, and then glances over at Bella with solemn ruby eyes. "I thought perhaps we should continue with our practice this morning, young one," she says in her deep, wild voice. "I have a…theory that ought to be put to the test." Her thoughts swirl briefly, not focusing on the specifics of her so-called theory, but I have no objections. Bella has grown tremendously in the use of her shield through Zafrina's tutoring, and the selfish, overprotective side of me rejoices that the Amazon has kept her from hand-to-hand training with Emmett or one of the others.

The unconventional pair head out back, trailed by Senna and Renesmee, and I wander into the kitchen, where my mother is busying herself by cleaning out the refrigerator. Since the wolves have not been around as much, she had noticed a rancid smell earlier this morning and could use the distraction; Esme can be quite prone to constant worrying – particularly in regard to her children.

"Good morning, dear," she greets, her golden eyes warm as she looks up at me. She holds out a plastic container, its contents a mixture of congealed tomato sauce and limp noodles_. Throw this out for me, will you?_

I promptly toss it into the garbage bag stationed near her on the tile floor, peering through the bay window at the two figures standing across from one another beside the riverbank. "Bella is out practicing again?" Esme's voice is slightly muffled as she sticks her head in the fridge, rooting around for the as yet unknown source of that strange odor.

"Yes." I watch the wind gather Bella's dark hair, causing the tresses to stream behind her like the tail of a comet. "And she plans on visiting Charlie today, as well. She's afraid that he might decide to come here since he hasn't seen Nessie in a while."

_Aha!_ Esme grins in triumph and pulls out a saran-wrapped dish laden with what was once a gourmet dinner and now resembles a child's science project, depositing it into the trash, and ties the bag. "Be sure to give him our best," she tells me as she carries the bag to the back door, tossing it unceremoniously into the can a few feet from the threshold.

"I'm not going with them."

Her head snaps around in surprise. "That's not like you," she comments warily, the fog of worry shrouding her mind thickening as she asks, "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," I respond at once, and then sigh. "No." I lean my shoulder against the side of the refrigerator, staring down at the floor as I mutter, "I don't know."

My mother glides over, placing a comforting hand on my arm. _Edward,_ she consoles mentally_, the imminent arrival of the Volturi is taking its toll on everyone. I'm sure that whatever is bothering the two of you can be easily remedied –_

"It's not that." I jerk away from her touch and start to pace the length of the kitchen, willing myself not to look each time I pass the window.

Esme, long used to my quicksilver temperament, sits down on the counter next to the sink, watching me with a patient expression. _Then what is it?_

A puff of breath escapes my mouth as I pinch the bridge of my nose between thumb and forefinger, my eyelids falling closed. "I think…" I come to a halt directly across from Esme. "I think that Bella is keeping something from me," I admit in a low voice.

My mother listens with compassion as I narrate my suspicions, which began the night Alice left – when I came into the cottage and found Bella watching her book go up in flames – and has perpetuated through even this morning.

Once I have finished, Esme holds out a hand towards me and I take it, drawing a small measure of solace from her affectionate smile. _You have considered me as your mother for many years, Edward,_ she muses, _and I am very grateful for that gift. So I want you to regard my words as a mother's advice._ She waits until I nod in agreement before continuing. _Bella may or may not be keeping a secret from you…but even if she is, you need to decide if you will still trust her._

"I do," I blurt out fervently.

_Do you? _Esme contradicts in a forthright manner, raising an eyebrow very slightly._ Trust and love are two very different emotions, Edward, but they are so intricately linked that sometimes it is hard to separate one from the other. _Her expression gentles, and she covers the top of my hand with hers as she goes on so that only I can hear. _Your love for Bella has been a powerful example to us all, as has her love for you…yet I wonder if you have ever fully stepped back and given her your complete trust. _She squeezes my fingers with the lightest pressure. _You have always protected her, saved her life many times over, and she has trusted you – blindly and irrevocably. Can you not trust that maybe, just maybe, she has a secret because she is trying to protect you and Renesmee?_

I blink at her, stunned. "I hadn't thought of that," I whisper, feeling a bit ashamed, and my gaze flits to the window of its own accord, finding the slender form of my wife near the ice-choked river.

Esme pats my knuckles and then drops her hands from mine, pushing herself off the counter._ Just keep it in mind, _she suggests, and heads for the staircase, intent on finding Carlisle and asking him to accompany her on a hunt.

Standing motionlessly in the middle of the kitchen, I consider my mother's advice, turning each word over inside my head.

If Esme is right, and Bella is trying to protect Renesmee and I, what reason could she possibly have for not sharing what she knows with me? She must realize that I would do anything in my power to help her. Why would she deliberately keep me in the dark?

A nagging sensation tickles the fringe of my mind, prodding an idea into shape, but it is so undefined that I cannot quite label it. All I know is that it feels like the answer to all my questions should be obvious, but it continues to lurk just out of sight, preventing me from discovering the key to this unusual puzzle.

I do not know how much time has passed, but suddenly my contemplations are interrupted by the back door swinging open and a burst of freesia carried on a brisk gust of air, teasing my senses.

Arranging my features into a casual grin, I comment to Bella as she walks inside, "Did your practice go well?"

"I guess so." She snorts, dubious. "But for the record, Zafrina has some pretty strange ideas about how to strengthen my shield."

I bend down and press a kiss on her brow. "I'm sure you did an admirable job."

Bella leans into my body, her arms coiling around my waist, and a gentle warmth begins to fill the center of my chest, radiating pure contentment as she rests her head over my heart, its silent song playing only for her. My own arms encircle her supple frame, and I lay my cheek on the crown of her head, wordlessly pleading with her to not bear any burden on her own.

Too soon, she pulls away with a reluctant sigh, mumbling, "I need to call Charlie."

She walks into the spacious living room and I follow, staying as close to her as is prudent while she retrieves the phone from its cradle on the end table by the sofa. Then she dials Charlie's number and waits for him to answer, wandering slowly towards the frosted windows.

He picks up after three rings. "Bella?" His tone sounds a bit groggy, but delighted.

"Hi, Dad. I didn't wake you up, did I?" Bella asks nervously, biting her lower lip.

"No, I was already up. Had a couple things to take care of." A newspaper rustles very quietly in the background. "So, are you calling to invite me over? I haven't seen Nessie in a while – and I know you've got…company…" He stumbles a little over the word, betraying his dislike of the current situation.

"Dad," Bella starts, but he talks over her.

"I've been waiting like you asked," he reminds her, perturbed, "but it's going to be the holidays, kid, and you only live a few miles away –"

"Charlie," she interrupts him in mid-rant, her wind chime voice soothing, "we've still got that strictly need-to-know company situation going. I know it's been more than a week since you saw Renesmee, but a visit is just not a good idea right now. How about I bring Renesmee over to see you?"

Silence, broken only by the low sound of breathing, resonates through the handset. Bella glances up at me, her eyes questioning and apprehensive, and I shrug faintly in response. But nearly half a minute later, Charlie mutters in frustration, "Need to know, _ugh."_

I suppress a chuckle. He and Bella are more alike than they realize.

"Okay, kid," he says, his tone considerably brighter. "Can you bring her over this morning? Sue's bringing me lunch. She's just as horrified by my cooking as you were when you first showed up." He laughs under his breath, and then sighs wistfully.

"This morning will be perfect," Bella declares.

With the promise of seeing his daughter and granddaughter, Charlie's mood has improved dramatically. "Is Jake coming with you guys?" he asks lightly, more rustling noises echoing in the background.

Bella shrugs, though he cannot see her, and replies, "Probably."

"Maybe I should invite Billy, too. But…" Charlie hesitates, and I wonder absently if he and Billy are feuding. It wouldn't be the first time, or the last – both men are incredibly stubborn, and set in their ways. During her father's reluctant silence, Bella touches her fingertip to the glass panel in front of her and slowly traces the pattern of the ice clinging to the outside. "Hmm. Maybe another time," he dismisses, taking a sip of some unknown beverage – most likely a cup of coffee – and effectively closing the subject.

Still absorbed in her thoughts, Bella lowers her hand, murmuring into the phone, "See you in a few." Then her thumb slides to the off button, and she replaces the handset into its cradle with a quiet exhale.

I study her profile, desperately trying to figure out what troubles her. All the signs are there, though they are more subtle than when she was human: the tightening skin around her eyes, the inattentiveness in a conversation, and the way she unnecessarily shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

Just as I am about to question her, a bronze-haired cherub bounces over and wraps her tiny arms around Bella's knees. "Are we going to see Grandpa?"

Looking down at Renesmee with a soft smile, Bella answers, "Yes." She smoothes a stray curl from the little girl's forehead tenderly. "Go find Jacob and ask him if he wants to come with us."

As our daughter disappears out the back door, Bella finally turns to me, the expression on her heart-shaped face open and loving…but there is something hidden in the depths of her nearly amber eyes. "Can I take your car?" she inquires, her lips curving into a rueful smirk. "I don't think it's a good idea to drive mine through Forks. It could start a riot."

I shake my head at her, chuckling, and remark in amusement, "Anything to avoid attention." Fishing my keys out of my pocket, I set them inside her outstretched palm. "What time will you be home?" I inquire softly as her fingers curl around the metal key ring.

She opens her mouth to reply, but Renesmee flits into the small space between us, touching her mother's forearm to let her know that Jacob will meet them in the garage.

"Late," Bella responds to my question, and lifts her shoulders faintly, striving for casualness – though the muted shadow of desolation in her eyes proves that she dreads any separation from me, as do I. "Charlie's not going to be happy unless he gets to spend the whole day with us," she glances down at the little girl, grinning, "and I think that someone's been missing their Grandpa, anyway." She laughs once when Renesmee bobs her tiny head in agreement.

Reaching out, I gently capture Bella's perfect face in my hands and lean forward to brush my lips against hers. "Hurry back to me," I murmur.

She places a slim hand on my cheek, and I quickly turn my head to kiss her palm, the fiery color of her irises smoldering as she holds my gaze. "Always." Her voice is low and husky, and my fingertips dig into her skin involuntarily, my body unwilling to let her go. I force myself to loosen my grasp, giving Bella a crooked smile to disguise the effort it takes to summon enough self-control to remain behind, when every fiber of my being is screaming for me to not let her out of my sight.

_You need to decide if you will still trust her, _the memory of Esme's counsel whispers in the back of my head, and it gives me the strength I need to look on as my wife and daughter slip through the doorway, Renesmee waving at me cheerfully over her shoulder.

A handful of seconds later, my ears easily pick up on the familiar sounds of the Volvo's driver's side door opening and closing, the key being inserted into the ignition, and the low purr of the engine.

_Aw, c'mon! _Jacob grumbles to himself as he stomps into the garage after catching sight of Bella and Renesmee. "Why can't we take your Ferrari?" he protests, glaring down at her. _I haven't even had a chance to_ sit_ in the thing yet!_

"Too conspicuous," Bella retorts immediately.

He rolls his eyes. _Sure, sure._

"We could go on foot," she says, a faint scowl drawing her eyebrows together, "but that would freak Charlie out."

"He'd get over it," Jacob pouts, but he nevertheless circle around the Volvo to the passenger door, yanking it open, and flops into the seat. Renesmee clambers from Bella's lap into his, excited to be on her way to visit Charlie.

The thrum of the engine accelerates, the tire treads raking across the cold, hard dirt as they pull out of the garage, and Bella asks kindly, "How are you?"

"How do you think?" he grounds out, his tone acidic. "I'm sick of all these reeking bloodsuckers." She shoots him a severe, admonishing frown and he backpedals, his expression sarcastic as he looks toward the ceiling. "Yeah, I know, I know. They're the good guys, they're here to help, they're going to save us all." A short breath puffs out from between his lips. "Etcetera, etcetera." He shakes his head. _I trust them about as far I could throw them – and even that's stretching it. _"Say what you want," he comments with certainty, "I still think Dracula One and Dracula Two are creep-tacular."

I chuckle under my breath at his statement, and watch through his eyes as a tiny smile lifts the corners of Bella's mouth. "I don't disagree with you there," she admits.

The break in the forest that is visible through the windshield signals the entry point for the highway, and I take that as my cue to withdraw from Jacob's mind, leaving the three of them to their own devices.

My plans to speak to Carlisle about the location where we would meet the Volturi have been put on hold, as he and Esme have gone hunting, and I am beginning to consider another course of action when my brother's mental voice suddenly echoes within my head. _Edward, you should come and see this._ And I glimpse the snow-covered hillock on the western bank of the river.

Grateful for the distraction, and mildly intrigued by the level of awe in Emmett's words, I dart outside, spotting a group of about ten or so vampires gathered beside the frozen water. As I draw closer, I notice one lanky figure standing apart from the rest – a motionless statue perched atop a weathered boulder dusted with white by the recent snowfall.

Benjamin is a study of rapt concentration, his mind centered on visualizing his goal, and a half-second later the light breeze stirring everyone's hair and clothing abruptly dies.

A finger of swirling wind stabs into a fissure interrupting the icy surface of the river, pulling the frigid water out and shaping it into a three-foot high stream. While all of the assembled group watches in amazement, the waterspout dances through the spider web of cracks in the ice and then slams into a bristly pine sapling fifty yards downstream with a loud splash.

In the silence that follows, the breeze returns, sending wisps of powdery snow into the air, and a low whistle breaks the stillness. _"Damn,_ kid…" Emmett marvels, shaking his head. "You are something else."

Quick, enthused murmurings answer his comment, floating on top of the thoughts humming within my skull like a hive of bees – and Benjamin, a jaunty grin on his face, leaps down from the boulder, his attention fixed solely on his wife.

Tia's smile is as bright as the sun, her expression radiating a powerful sense of joy and affection as Benjamin bends over and kisses her gently. She says nothing, but they communicate on such a deep, unspoken level that there is no need for words. He knows how proud she is of him.

Peering around Tia's billowing curtain of ebony hair, Benjamin spies me next to my brother and his ruby-colored eyes light up. _Edward!_ he exclaims with pleasure.

A slight swagger in his step, he makes his way across the snowy field, Tia by his side, and comes to a halt in front of me. "What do you think, my friend?" he asks, his arched eyebrows and eager smirk making him look like a boy showing off for his neighborhood pals.

I smile back. "Controlling two elements at once. You've been practicing more than you let on," I insinuate teasingly, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jacket out of sheer habit; the wintry temperature does not bother me in the least.

Benjamin shrugs, replying in his usual amiable manner, "Well, we have your wife to thank for that."

My confusion must be obvious, for he immediately clarifies, "Bella's dedication and focus during her own training is, I must admit, an inspiration to me – and to Tia, as well." He gestures to the side, and Tia nods once in mute accord. "Watching her the other day," he goes on, becoming more animated as he speaks, "I thought to myself: if a newborn can have this much commitment to developing her gift, then surely I can do the same. Although…" he chuckles, remembering the last practice session he had watched between Bella and Kate. "Bella is unlike any newborn I have ever met." _And I mean that in the best possible way,_ he adds inwardly.

"She's one of a kind," I agree softly, repeating the words my sister spoke to Charlie over a year ago. Wrenching myself free from the melancholy echoes of the time in which Alice made that observation, I pin on a crooked smile and say, "Of course, I already knew that she is special, but it's gratifying to realize that my bias is not completely unfounded." Though it is a personal goal of mine during the next millennia or so to convince Bella of her own indescribably beautiful uniqueness.

Benjamin and Tia laugh in response; I join them while Emmett wanders off to search for Rosalie. Getting along with the two younger members of the Egyptian coven comes easily for me – most likely because there are certain similarities between Benjamin and myself. We were both changed at a relatively young age by a vampire that became a father figure in our new existence, and each of us obtained a power that, quite frankly, overwhelms us at times.

But where Carlisle allowed me to grow – become accustomed to our way of life and develop the use of my ability at my own pace – Amun has pushed Benjamin nearly to the point of breaking his mind, determined to forge his creation into an unbeatable weapon.

I think, deep down, the hardened Arabic vampire cares for Benjamin, but it is not the same type of bond that I share with Carlisle. Though he created me, Carlisle has never treated as anything less than a son – a much-loved son, at that – and I will always view him as my father. His example is one that I have and will continue to strive for, especially now that I have been given the incredible gift of a living legacy in Renesmee.

Renesmee. Bella. They must surely be at Charlie's by now.

It would take me less than five minutes to race down the well-worn path to that small house on the edge of the woods…

Unconsciously, my feet begin to shift, and I clench my jaw, willing myself to ignore the intoxicating idea of seeing their perfect faces sooner than anticipated – envisioning the look of surprise and then delight in Bella's wide eyes…the dazzling, excited smile that Renesmee would wear when she sees me…

_Stop. _The self-inflicted chastisement rings loudly inside my head, clearing some of the fog brought on by my desires from my common sense. _They will be back tonight._

But a faint tug issues from somewhere within the core of my body – like there is an invisible string connecting me to Bella – and when it stretches so far, the inexorable pull compels one of us towards the other. I had almost shredded myself to pieces on its razor-sharp edge when I fled from her arms, the only true sanctuary I had ever known, thinking that it was within my power to release her from all ties that bound her to me.

To my everlasting shame, the torture of our separation had claimed us both as its victims, leaving deep scars that I can only pray will fully heal with time…yet I still rejoice in the knowledge that the cord affixed between my soul and hers has remained unbroken.

It seems that my masochistic tendencies have decided to linger, after all.

I need to find a suitable distraction – at least until Carlisle returns from hunting with Esme.

Not trusting myself to pursue my typical attempt at diversion, for I am convinced that if I start to run, I will follow the pull on my heart to Bella, I engage in conversation with various guests scattered throughout the area surrounding the house.

After a very illuminating discussion with Siobhan in regard to how she and my father first met, I catch sight of a familiar willowy figure perched on a branch midway from the top of a knotted old elm, strawberry-blonde waves rippling around her face and shoulders.

At one time, I would have shied away from any one-on-one exchange with Tanya, but she has always been like family to me, and the pangs of loneliness interrupting her thoughts strikes a chord inside my chest.

Pausing at the base of the enormous trunk, I call up to her with a slight grin, "Is this seat taken?"

Topaz eyes stare down in surprise, and then glitter mischievously. "Are you ready for some more 'intimacy coaching', Edward?" she asks, hinting at the little_ chat_ we had at the wedding reception. "I guarantee that you and Bella will benefit from the education." Her teeth gleam unnaturally white in the pale light as she smiles at me, her mind briefly overcrowded with illustrations of a man and a woman in compromising positions; however, she and I are both aware that her attempt to block me from her thoughts will be short-lived.

I feign inattention for the moment and swing onto a wide tree limb about a foot beneath and to the left of her location, settling my back against the rough bark of the trunk. "I think we've managed quite well by ourselves, Tanya," I respond to her teasing dryly, and she laughs under her breath, the bell-like sound nearly disappearing into the wind.

Tilting my head, I look up at her, noting the distant ache in her expression. It is a testimony to our long-standing camaraderie that there is no reason for a preamble. I simply say in a low voice, "How long have you felt this way?"

Tanya sighs. _I knew that you would hear me sooner or later, _she grumbles, the words tinged with reproof – but it is directed internally, not at me. Aloud, she murmurs a vague reply. "A while."

Several images flit across her mind, and I struggle to determine the common factor in each one, hoping to alleviate some of her sadness. "Does Kate know?" I ask after a few seconds. I had glimpsed her pale, smiling face the most in the pictures that filled Tanya's head.

"You think I blame Kate?" she retorts harshly, her gold eyes crackling with indignation. "Am I so petty to you that I would hold my own sister responsible for my pain? If that were true, I would have condemned_ you _long ago for the troubles I've endured!" She glances away from my widened stare, worried about being overheard, and breathes out a tense exhale. _Once… _she resumes mentally, her thoughts more mild than her spoken words, _I might have wanted to blame you for how I feel, but I have evolved from that smitten, narcissistic woman who thought that you could be what she was missing._

"Tanya –"

_Please don't interrupt. I need to tell you this. _She waits for me to nod in acquiescence before continuing. _Part of me also wanted to lay the blame on your Bella – how one encounter with a silly human child had changed your entire demeanor both amazed and aggrieved me – but I held onto that notion for even less time than the idea of making you responsible for my pain. _

The earnestness in her steady gaze overshadows the bleak cast to her elegant features as she remarks, _I have seen with my own eyes that you and she are meant for one another, and any feelings I may have held for you pale in comparison to the overwhelming passion you share with Bella. _She forces a smile, but the gesture is lost to the onslaught of sorrow consuming her entire countenance.

"Tanya," I try again, the lump in my throat hindering my ability to speak, "you can't give up. There is still hope for you."

_Edward._ A regretful sort of acceptance flavors her internal voice. _I have wandered this earth for a millennium. I have lived in whatever capacity I chose, with my mother and sisters for company, and when Sasha was killed, I took up the role of leading my family. But I have always felt this…ache – a gnawing loneliness that even those I love most cannot completely fill. And I have begun to accept that it will remain thus for me; until the end of time, or the end of me. Whichever comes first. _She lifts her slim shoulders in a casual shrug, attempting to persuade me of her nonchalant attitude, and failing miserably.

"There is someone for you," I contest adamantly. Never could I have guessed that I would offer this kind of consolation to Tanya, of all people. "Look at me: I had convinced myself that I didn't need anyone when all the while I was slowly killing what remained of my humanity, and then Isabella Swan crashed into my numbed existence and made me see what I had always been searching for. _Her."_

Tanya is strangely quiet for a few moments, looking down at me with an unfathomable expression, her thoughts repressed like muffled whispers at the very edge of hearing. Then, at length, her face transforms, and the mixture of emotions displayed perplexes me. The sorrow is still prominent, but there are also flickers of exasperation, amusement, tolerance, and what could almost be defined as…pity. _Why, Edward Cullen – _her tone is light with humor, her lips twitching into a small grin – _you have turned into quite the idealist._

"Hmm." Mildly surprised by her observation, and by the fact that I agree, I remark, "I suppose I have. But is it wrong for me to want the best for everyone in my family?" The rhetorical question hangs in the icy air for several seconds, weighted with dozens of abstract implications, and I sense Tanya's uncertainty as she mulls over the correct way to phrase her answer.

_I care for you deeply, Edward, so please don't take this as an insult…but… _Ire sparks in her ocher irises, her mouth flattening into a thin, angry line. _You and I are nothing alike. _She takes in a slow breath, the tumult in her mind calming, and goes on. _You use your relationship with Bella as an archetype for the inevitability of fate, when in truth you are barely more than a child to this life. I have lived for over ten and a half centuries without a mate. You endured a paltry ninety years of loneliness and self-imposed celibacy before finding your wife – your other half. _

Tucking a few errant strands of hair behind her ear, Tanya murmurs inwardly_, I know you mean well, and perhaps you can understand what I'm feeling on some level…but I must ask you not to try to diminish my grief with platitudes. I am far too old to be coddled._

Respectful of her wishes, I leave my previously chosen words unsaid, and instead ask quietly, "Is there anything I can do?"

I can feel the warmth in her voice as she responds aloud, "That you have listened to me is enough."

She works on putting aside her personal heartache, reminding herself that it is of little consequence in our present circumstances, and out of courtesy I block her thoughts, turning my awareness outward in hopes of hearing Carlisle's return.

A pair of minds tickles the fringe of my perception an instant later; however, it is not the couple I had been expecting. Once I focus on the most recognizable of the two, I easily discern who is approaching, and glance up at Tanya with slight trepidation.

Before I can say anything, a gust of wind screeches through the bare branches and Tanya's nostrils flare, immediately detecting the spicy citrus aroma of her sister. _Kate, _she thinks out of reflex. Then, to my astonishment, a broad, impish smile parts her lips. Scrambling to her feet, Tanya tiptoes across several boughs until she is hidden from view by the tree's massive trunk. _Don't just sit there!_ she yells impatiently. _Hide!_

I comply, swiftly threading my way through a tangle of smaller branches and pressing myself against the trunk, wondering at the same time how my cousin's mood could shift from despondency to exuberance in the blink of an eye.

A flash of brilliant gold catches my attention, and I angle my head sideways, watching as Kate and her new near-constant companion Garrett approach the outlying border of the forest. Tanya giggles madly to herself in anticipation, honing in on their murmured conversation, and I am caught up in her ridiculous eavesdropping.

Like naughty children spying on an older sibling, we hold our breaths in order to stay completely still and listen intently.

"I just don't understand how you_ do_ it," Garrett says to Kate, his tone saturated in earnest curiosity. "I can smell them out there –" he raises his chin and sniffs the air once as though to prove his point, and then crinkles his nose at the distinctly pungent odor of animal blood "– and I have to tell you, it doesn't seem very appetizing."

Kate is only half-listening; most of her attention is fixed on the far-off pounding of hooves on the frozen ground and the direction of the herd's scent. "It's an acquired taste," she comments absently, stepping forward as the itch in her throat begins to build. Then she halts in mid-step, looking over at him with a quirked eyebrow, her dark amber eyes bewildered. "What are you doing?"

He blinks, and then counters, "What are_ you_ doing?"

"I'm thirsty," she tells him very slowly, as though explaining herself to someone incredibly dense. "I'm going for a quick hunt. So unless you've changed your mind about your choice of diet, I'll see you later."

A sudden thought occurs to her, and Kate smothers a grin. Twirling a strand of pale blonde hair around her finger, she remarks in an idle tone, "It's too bad, really. I would have liked to see you try and take down an entire herd of deer in four minutes. That's my personal record."

_She is diabolical. _Garrett has already figured out Kate's little game, but he enjoys their playful banter and acts of competition too much to withdraw. Besides, it is not in his nature to surrender. "You think I can't?" he challenges, effectively hiding his amused smirk.

Kate flips her hair over a shoulder. "I never said that. I only said that you could _try."_ She allows her brilliant grin to conquer the bland expression on her face. "But not today," she declares facetiously, mocking him with her gaze, and starts to amble off into the trees. "I'm too thirsty. You'll only slow me down."

All of a sudden, he is in front of her, blocking her path. "I'll make you a deal, Kate," Garrett offers. "If I prove to you that I can hunt your way, then I get to come with you next time." He grins, his ruby eyes twinkling with merriment and deepening affection for the feisty blonde frowning up at him.

"And if you can't?" Kate asks, placing her hands on her hips.

"I won't hunt my way for a fortnight." _It's been done before, _he assures himself, more concerned at the moment with accomplishing this task rather than suffering through the thirst for two weeks.

Kate contemplates the terms of their agreement for less than half a minute. "Deal." She extends her right hand.

He grasps it, his long fingers wrapping with surprising tenderness around her slender hand, and shakes once – but does not immediately let go. The pad of his thumb lightly strokes the soft skin of her wrist, his unblinking stare holding hers as he murmurs in a low, almost husky voice, "I look forward to exceeding your expectations, Katie."

Her features soften, the slightly dazed look in her wide eyes reminding me of all the times Bella said that I was dazzling her, and then Kate purses her lips, sending a tiny current of electricity into her palm. Garrett jerks away instinctively, his fingers twitching. "We'll see," Kate informs him coolly, and darts into the snow-covered woods without giving him a chance to reply.

He shakes his hand a few times, chuckling quietly to himself, and turns to head back to the house, seriously considering the notion that he should speak to one of the other members of our family about our hunting methods.

_Carmen is right, _Tanya muses as she circles around the tree trunk to watch Garrett's departure. _He is just the type of man Kate needs: brave, adventurous, and a little bit reckless. _She laughs, the sound nearly inaudible above the words she herself spoke within the memory that surfaces in her thoughts. _"The Cullens are all evened up in numbers now. Perhaps it will be our turn next, eh, Kate?"_

Realization clears the haze from my mind. "That's why you were thinking of her earlier," I say, finally understanding. "You believe that Kate has found her match in Garrett."

_And I am glad._ She tilts her head to peer sidelong at me, one arm coiled around an overhanging branch as she leans into the open space above the ground, her strawberry-blonde locks dancing wildly in the crisp breeze. _I wish my sister nothing but happiness, and he seems like a good man. Not like – _she chokes off that thought abruptly, purging all images associated with the sister whose name she refuses to remember.

"He is a good man," I concur, steering the conversation away from that treacherous subject. "From what I've heard in his mind, he has a strong set of principles for a nomad, and would more than likely convert to our way of life in order to build a relationship with Kate." Sitting down on a particularly wide branch, I dangle my feet over the edge as I reflect on the quirk of fate that brings two people together, only to have them face probable annihilation at the hands of the most powerful coven in the world.

And I am no longer just thinking of Kate and Garrett.

The perpetual droning of thoughts inside my head unexpectedly changes pitch. Like noticing a familiar strain of music above a clamor of insignificant noise, my awareness instantly latches onto the benevolent mind of my father. He and Esme are a few miles from home and will be here in less than a minute.

I swing down to a y-shaped limb a short distance below me, intent on speaking to Carlisle before he is pulled into another discussion, and Tanya watches my movements with veiled curiosity. "If you will excuse me, Tanya," I say as I drop to the ground effortlessly, straightening my knees from a slight crouch. "I have some things to talk over with Carlisle." Waving up at her motionless form, I then spin on heel and launch myself into a sprint, crossing the yard in a handful of seconds.

As I open the back door, a soft, intense voice whispers in my skull,_ I haven't given up hope, Edward._

I smile faintly to myself, entering the house almost simultaneously with my parents, their vivid gold eyes expectant as I approach. After offering a brief word of welcome, I tell Carlisle quietly, "I'd like to speak to you."

"Of course," he agrees at once. "Shall we go to my study?"

Nodding, I gently brush past Esme to head for the staircase. She touches my cheek with her palm, pleased that I seem less anxious about Bella and Renesmee's absence than when she left, and smiles warmly.

After we ascend the stairs to the second floor landing, I allow my father to precede me into the study, and then close the door for some semblance of privacy. He walks over to his desk, the gleaming mahogany wood buried beneath a mountain of books, papers, and topography maps of the Olympic Peninsula, and I can sense his inquisitive gaze on me as I reach for a stack of photos balanced on the bottom right corner of the desktop, rifling through them quickly.

"I've been thinking about Alice's vision," I murmur under my breath. The pain of her departure has dulled somewhat in the last week; I am able to say her name aloud without having to fight back a wince. "As a matter of principle, there are some things that cannot be changed in what she saw, and I believe that one of those constant factors is the location of our meeting with the Volturi."

I hold up a snapshot of the field where more than one battle has already taken place, its wild grass tread upon by my family, James and his coven, the wolves and the newborn army, and even several members of the Volturi guard.

Carlisle nods slowly and folds his arms across his torso, his expression thoughtful. "It is far enough away from Forks to not attract attention," he says in a low voice, "and since we are familiar with the area, we have the advantage of knowing how best to prepare ourselves." _It is a sound plan, Edward, _he adds mentally.

"The trick is determining which direction they will come from." I bend down and smooth out a map of the Olympic forest and mountain range, the area in question marked by a circle drawn in yellow highlighter. "Some of the details in the vision are sketchy, but it seems like they will arrive from the north –" I trace a line with the tip of my index finger "– right through the Juan de Fuca Strait."

"Mmm… Aro will avoid as much contact with humans as possible, and this route would take them very close to one of the coastal cities," Carlisle disputes mildly, and then gestures to the map. "Crossing the strait here, near the Makah reservation, would help them maintain anonymity and allow for a more direct path to the forest."

"But then, ultimately, they would enter the field from the west."

"Yes. But, that is only a guess." He smiles very faintly. "A well-educated guess."

Humming in the affirmative, I continue to study the layout with narrowed eyes, using my perfect recall to envision the landscape in my mind's eye. Quite literally, we will have to arrange our group of witnesses like pieces on a chessboard: wanting to appear benign, but also needing to position the key players in ideal spots lest the encounter devolves into a fight.

My protectiveness flares white-hot in my chest as I consider the fact that Bella is well on her way to becoming the focal point for our defensive strategy – which will no doubt thrill her, since she warned me back in June that she refused to 'sit on the sidelines' the next time we were pulled into a war.

I do not know if she can do much more than shield me and perhaps one other without taxing her concentration, but it will ensure that she remains by my side indefinitely throughout the battle, if indeed it comes to that –

_Son._ A hand comes to rest lightly on my shoulder, and I glance up, surprised. Carlisle peers deep into my eyes, his buttery yellow irises mirroring the affection and concern permeating his thoughts as he imparts, _Before we become too caught up in planning, I want you to know that Esme told me what you shared with her this morning. I agree with the advice she gave you, and we both want to respect your privacy, as this is really between you and Bella… _He squeezes my shoulder briefly. _Just remember that I, and Esme as well, are here if you need to talk._

"Thank you," I murmur with sincerity. Before our family is plunged into the dark ambiguity of the future, I must make certain to tell this man – my creator, my mentor, my father, and my friend – how grateful I am to him, and that I should have told him decades ago to never regret his decision to change me. Every struggle and tedious passage of time, even my fit of rebellion, has shaped me into who I am, and led me to the only woman capable of breathing new life into the frozen lump of stone that was once my heart.

Unaware of my internal ruminations, Carlisle lowers his hand and returns his attention to the map, considering the terrain that the Volturi will have to cross and mentally calculating an estimated time frame. He and I pour over each scrap of information at our disposal, secluded in the study for hours on end – until just around sunset, he folds the piece of paper in his hands and sets it down, a quiet sigh escaping his mouth. _We've done enough for today, Edward. Besides, I need to relay to Siobhan and Amun our decision on a location. _He stands, running his fingers absently through his normally tidy blonde hair, and asks in vague curiosity, _Shouldn't Bella be on her way home soon?_

"She said that she'd be late." Mimicking his previous action, I rake a hand through my own tousled locks, frowning a little to myself. Deprived of yet another distraction, my entire being starts to crave Bella's presence, the nerve endings in my flesh trembling in anticipation like an addict desperate for his next fix.

Because he knows me so well, Carlisle senses my restlessness and offers, his tone strangely hesitant, _Perhaps you should play something on the piano. It has always worked miracles on everyone's mood in the past, and I'm sure that your mother would appreciate hearing your music again._

He exits the room, leaving me motionless in my chair, lost in a quandary of emotion.

I have not touched the familiar ivory keys of my piano for over a week; in fact, part of me has been constantly overlooking the polished ebony instrument whenever I enter the house in a vain effort to stave off the memories.

One in particular rises to the surface, and instead of suppressing or fleeing from it I let it fill my mind, reliving the moment in flawless clarity.

_Esme rested her loving hands tenderly on my shoulders as I tried to compose, the feelings erupting from my chest and seeping through my pores shaping the notes in ways I had never imagined before._

_I felt a transition coming in the line of melody, but couldn't quite get what I was hearing in my head to come to life through my fingers on the keys._

"_It's charming," Esme interrupted my mounting frustration in a soft voice. "Does it have a name?"_

_"Not yet," I answered. Her delight in my music helped to calm my thoughts, become less focused on the notes, and a subtle key change made itself known as I continued to play._

_"Is there a story to it?" she asked. Even without seeing her face, I could picture the contented smile that must be gracing her lips. She had always taken great pleasure in listening to me perform, and I had been selfish as of late – allowing my depression to pull me away from everything that used to soothe me. Even my family._

_I swallowed back the hard lump of guilt in my throat, and then replied thoughtfully, "It's…a lullaby, I suppose." Yes, a lullaby. Written for an exquisitely beautiful girl asleep on a small bed, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue, her hair arrayed on her pillow like thick ribbons of dark silk…_

_"A lullaby," Esme murmured under her breath._

_Alice then glided across the floor and settled beside me on the bench. As I played, she began to sing in a high, pure voice, creating a vibrant descant that was lovely, but didn't…fit…with the emotion of the piece._

_"I like it," I assured her. "But how about this?" Inserting the melody she had constructed into a lower octave, the composition then transformed, its ambiance warm and tender, and also fathomless in the reverence that saturated every thrum of the bass notes – like the heartbeat that filled my ears each time I pictured_ her_ in my mind._

_My sister understood the essence of the piece now, and adjusted her song to compliment the main melody, letting it take precedence over her wind chime timbre. _Better?_ she trilled mentally._

_"Yes," I told her quietly, not wanting to disrupt the flow of the music with my words. "Perfect."_

_Esme's hand tightened on my shoulder in affection, as caught up in the simplistic beauty of the lullaby as Alice and I were. _

_My eyelids fell half-closed, an ache blooming inside my chest as I realized that the image of the slumbering angel could not, and should not, change. She was perfect as she was, and the only thing I would do by weaving the threads of my world with hers would tarnish that innocent splendor with the darkness that marked my soulless existence, the blood that stained my teeth and hands._

_An angel deserved far better than the love of a monster._

_The harmony shifted, filling the music with sadness, and the notes slowed, echoing my reluctance to let go of the sleepless dream that haunted the empty places of my heart. Alice lowered her voice, and it rang like the somber tolls of church bells, fading into the final chords as I brought the song to an end._

_When my hands ceased from their playing, I bowed my head in supplication and closed my eyes. Though I knew it was wrong of me to ask, for I hardly deserved any show of divine grace, I silently begged God to grant me one chance – just one moment – to hold Bella in my arms and tell her how I felt. And I swore that afterward, if she ran from me, as she should…I would let her go._

_A palm began to stroke my hair, and Esme's voice echoed inside my head. _It's going to be fine, Edward,_ she comforted in a maternal fashion_. This is going to work out for the best. You_ deserve_ happiness, my son. Fate owes you that.

_I wanted so desperately to believe her – to believe that I could find happiness, experience the joy of requited love…but hope is a foreign concept to me. _

_Hope is for those who are still worthy of redemption._

_Nevertheless, I did not wish to trouble Esme any longer with my black mood, so I whispered faintly, "Thanks."_

_Alice nudged her tiny arm against mine, reminding me that I had her full support and unwavering friendship, and then she and Esme proceeded to shed some light on my sorrow with snippets of familial bonding._

_But the fragments of my dead heart – the lifeless piece of stone that had been revived by the breathy murmur of my name from the lips of the only girl in the world – continued to throb in anguish._

I slowly rise from the embrace of the memory, feeling more at peace with myself, for I had faced the recollection undaunted, and the pain of my remembrances of Alice has dulled.

Feeling decisive, I stand up from my seat and make my way out of the study, following the hall to the staircase. I let the steady hum of the ten or so minds filling the main floor of the house wash over me as I descend the steps. Carlisle eyes me with approval from the entrance to the dining room, but I do not avert my gaze from the piano situated near the front door.

Like greeting an old friend, I slowly circle the beautiful instrument, my fingertips stroking the gleaming curves of its frame. I can hear Esme's hopeful curiosity mingling with the mild interest permeating Maggie's thoughts as she watches from her place tucked into the far corner of the loveseat, as well as the passing questions issuing from the others milling casually throughout the massive room.

Once I complete my orbit around the piano, I settle onto the bench, inhale a quiet breath, and then lift the cover from the keys. The familiar black and white pattern of the ivories was once my solace in a seemingly empty eternity of loneliness. Composing music was an outlet for the wordless desires that I kept bottled up in the furthest depths of my mind, and for nearly eighty years the only passion I felt was in the ebb and flow of the notes being created beneath my fingers.

Until that unforgettable, miraculous Sunday morning when Bella sat beside me on this bench – the scent of freesia filling my lungs as her warmth radiated into my granite shell – and I played for her the one piece that I had truly_ felt_, for my inspiration was the sheer perfection of the angel that had granted me the gift of holding her in my arms as she slept the night before.

I shift my eyes to the windows, noting the faint streaks of red painting the horizon.

Bella. I miss her terribly.

But I do know of a temporary relief for the agony of waiting, and with a slight half-smile, I rest my hands on the keys, my fingers automatically curling into the required position.

To compliment my mood, the introductory line of Debussy's _Rêverie_ begins to emanate from the piano – and as the harmony gently falls into the background of the soothing melody, Esme sighs in pleasure, a wide smile on her face. She sinks onto the loveseat next to Maggie, riveted by the graceful, trancelike feel of the sweeping phrases.

Immersing myself in the music, I allow my conscious mind to drift, the thoughts that incessantly flood my brain becoming no more than the distant, rhythmic pounding of waves on the seashore. As the last soft chords ring out, a new string of notes manifests in my head, evoking a strange tangle of emotion.

Captivated, I begin to pick the notes out on the keyboard, repeating the pattern several times at different tempos, trying to decide which one suits the overall tone of the composition. I then add a few chords, and a harmonizing contrast that fluctuates between a major and minor key signature, lending a melancholy quality to the piece.

Yet after a time, the music seems to take on a life of its own, compelling me to weave a more elaborate sequence of notes that rise and fall along the scale, resonating a profound sensation of…hope.

I toy with this latest piece as the sun sinks below the jagged, snowcapped mountains, the first flickering stars peeking timidly from behind the thick clouds swathing the deep violet sky, and the muted hum of noise echoing dimly in my ears alters in pitch. The low, even purr of a finely tuned engine and the muted rotation of car tires on snow-laden dirt causes my heart to leap with ecstasy inside my chest, my fingers stuttering infinitesimally atop the piano keys.

They are home.

To keep myself from sprinting headlong to the garage, I play snatches of various melodies with an abstracted sort of air, listening intently as the Volvo comes to a stop and the engine is cut. A door opens, and as soon as it is closed, I begin to play the lullaby I created for Bella – my way of welcoming her home.

I do not hear Jacob's unmistakably loud mind, so my guess is that he stayed behind at Charlie's, which is just as well. I know how flustered he has been lately while being surrounded by some twenty-odd vampires, and considering how irritable he was with Bella when they left earlier today only solidifies the fact that he can use a break from our company.

Her footsteps are slow, almost a human's normal pace as she crosses the yard to the back door of the house. A couple of the guests offer whispered greetings, and I distinguish from their thoughts that Renesmee is sound asleep in her mother's arms, the rapid flutter of her pulse more deliberate than usual.

Bella pushes the door open, our daughter nestled against her, and I give her a crooked smile, continuing to play when more than anything I want to wrap them both in my arms. "Welcome home," I say warmly.

She walks forward until she is standing right beside the piano bench, and I eagerly breathe in the air that is now perfumed with her sweet fragrance, my eyes drinking in her appearance as though she has been gone for days rather than hours. It is then that I notice the spark that normally lights up her fiery-colored irises has dulled, and the edges of her calm expression seem strained, like she is struggling to control herself.

Did something happen with her father? But he sounded so excited at the prospect of seeing her and Renesmee on the phone this morning…

I keep my smile in place, but my gaze studies her face closely while I ask, the barest hint of concern in my voice, "Did you have a good time with Charlie today?"

"Yes," she responds, a sheepish look molding her features. But her eyes remain void of their familiar luster. "Sorry I was gone so long. I stepped out to do a little Christmas shopping for Renesmee." Her dark brows pull together very slightly, wrinkling the alabaster skin on her forehead. "I know it won't be much of an event, but…" She trails off into a shrug.

How I wish I knew what is upsetting her. Could it be that our lack of a celebration for our first Christmas as husband and wife, and Renesmee's first as well, is bothering her? That does not seem like Bella; a woman who can scarcely tolerate receiving gifts of any kind would not likely request a traditional Christmas, unless it is for the sake of our daughter. If that is what she wishes, it will be a simple matter to make the proper arrangements.

Frowning, I lift my hands from the piano and turn sideways on the bench to face her. Then, I place my palm on her waist, the slender concave matching the shape of my hand almost exactly, and gently guide her closer. She steps into the space between my knees, lowering her chin in order to meet my eyes, and I tilt my head upward, scrutinizing every flicker of movement in her expression. "I hadn't thought much about it," I admit. But perhaps she has, so I start to suggest, "If you_ want_ to make an event of it –"

"No," she interrupts hastily, a brief flash of panic widening her gaze. "I just didn't want to let it pass without giving her something."

I arch my eyebrows at her in anticipation and inquire softly, "Do I get to see?"

"If you want," she murmurs, trying to feign nonchalance over a gift she so obviously chose for the specific purpose of presenting to Renesmee, and I hide a grin. "It's only a little thing."

Bella opens the small black clutch tucked under her arm and withdraws a swatch of burgundy velvet tied at the top with a golden cord. "It caught my eye from the window of an antique store while I was driving by," she explains, her tone still casual.

I hold out my hand as she unties the cord and tips the little bag upside down over my palm. A round gold locket on a thin, glittering chain slides into my outstretched hand. The front is adorned with an elegant vine sculpted around the entire edge of the circle.

Curious to see if she put anything inside yet, I carefully unfasten the clasp and examine both halves. One side is blank – a space for a tiny picture – and the other has an inscription in neat cursive, the words written in French. _"Plus que ma propre vie."_

A chill skitters down my spine. Keeping my stare locked on the miniscule writing, icy tendrils of foreboding begin to slither into my brain, awakening all of my earlier anxiety in regard to my suspicions about Bella's recent behavior.

I draw in a quiet breath, willing myself to not overreact or jump to conclusions. Maybe she did not ask about the meaning of the inscription. Maybe it is only coincidence.

A part of me scoffs at my own naivety.

Somberly, I trace a fingertip along the outside rim of the locket and ask, "Do you know what this says?"

Her voice lowers to match mine, and I can feel her eyes on my bowed head as she replies, "The shopkeeper told me it said something along the lines of _'more than my own life'_." A sharp pang stings my heart. Of course she knows what the words mean; it must be part of the reason why she purchased the locket in the first place. "Is that right?" Bella adds hesitantly.

"Yes, he had it right," I answer under my breath, my feelings in turmoil and my thoughts a chaotic jumble of questions, worries, and promises.

Desperate for any type of response – any hint as to what burden she is carrying on her own – my head snaps up, and I look hard into her eyes, plumbing their vivid amber depths for the secrets held within her closed mind.

In a handful of seemingly infinite seconds, our stares hold, and once I move past Bella's thinly crafted façade, the overwhelming power of her grief threatens to crush me. I do not have my brother's talent to draw on, but there is no mistaking the utter devastation lurking in the shadows behind her gaze.

I have seen this emotion in her eyes only once before: on that black September day when I spoke the most heinous words of blasphemy that this world has ever known.

But, hidden underneath the despair, there is an all-too-familiar opacity in Bella's stare – an impenetrable wall that I have come to associate with her innate ability to guard any secret she may want to keep from becoming exposed.

That wall had virtually disappeared when she and I were married; it returned the morning Alice and Jasper left, and has since sprung up on random occasions, most especially when there is talk of Alice's vision or our preparations for the arrival of the Volturi.

Esme advised me to trust Bella, to show her the same level of belief that she has given me countless times, and I want to be able to do that so badly…yet my very nature rebels against the idea of being the one who is protected, instead of defending the core of my existence, as I have done from the beginning.

I can almost appreciate the irony in my rationale.

I have entrusted my life, my heart, and my very soul to this woman, whom I vowed before mortal and immortal – even God Himself – to honor and cherish for eternity, and for the last few days I have relied on her developing talent to shield me from multiple mental attacks. And in spite of all that, I cannot trust her with a single undisclosed thought? Is omniscience really a trait that I should be striving for, or one that I should try harder to avoid?

_Omniscience…_ That term triggers a warning in the back of my mind, though I cannot quite put my finger on why. It is like another word is missing.

_Omniscience…omniscience…_

Virtual _omniscience._

Aro.

If he touches me, he will know not only_ my_ thoughts, but also every thought I have ever heard.

Bella could be keeping something from me for fear that, through me, Aro would learn of her secret.

_Can you not trust that maybe, just maybe, she has a secret because she is trying to protect you and Renesmee?_

I peer deeper into Bella's sunset-colored eyes, silently begging her to offer some sign that will confirm or deny my suspicion. She immediately retreats from the intensity of my gaze, blinking once before turning her attention to the television, pretending to be interested in the movie that has Emmett laughing hysterically from his place sprawled on the sofa. "I hope she likes it," Bella mumbles, and her bottom lip twitches, as though she is suppressing the urge to tuck it between her teeth.

In that instant, I make my decision. With my eyes locked on her slightly averted profile, I vow inwardly to both her and myself that I will never ask for an explanation, no matter what happens. Bella will tell me in her own time. _I trust you, love_, I tell her in my mind. Then, I remark aloud, my voice blithe and untroubled, "Of course she will."

Her stare flits sideways, measuring my mild, controlled expression, and a sort of unspoken pact is forged between us as we study one another for a fraction of a second. I am certain that she is now aware that I know she is keeping something from me, and that I have no idea what it might be – nor do I intend to ask. The power of that revelation belongs to Bella, and her alone.

Suddenly, I have the undeniable need to take my wife and daughter to the sanctuary of the cottage – to see Renesmee cocooned securely in a soft blanket, asleep in her crib – to feel Bella in the circle of my arms as we lie together on our bed.

Rising to my feet, I wrap an arm around Bella's shoulders, pressing my face into her hair while I say tenderly, "Let's take her home."

I expect Bella to step forward with me, but she pushes back against my hold, biting her lip uncertainly. "What?" I ask, though it sounds more like a demand. The selfish, possessive side of my personality is starting for vie for dominance. I have been apart from my wife for nearly twelve hours and will make no further sacrifices for her time.

She fidgets a little against me; my fingers instinctively tighten around the curve of her shoulder. Rueful, she then confesses in a quiet murmur, "I wanted to practice with Emmett a little…"

My brother perks up, leaning back to look at us over the top of Rosalie's blonde head, and grins widely. _Sounds like a plan. I'm dead bored, anyway._ I barely stifle the growl that rattles inside my chest as I listen to his eager thoughts. "Excellent," he proclaims with his usual zeal for all things destructive. "The forest needs thinning." I glower at him darkly. _Hey,_ he contradicts in a laid-back manner_, she's the one who suggested it. I'm only taking her up on the offer._

Still frowning, I turn to Bella. She seems puzzled by my attitude, her wide eyes bewildered as she looks up at me. "There's plenty of time for that tomorrow," I assert firmly, and attempt to steer her towards the door.

Her expression morphs into a withering glare to rival that of any defiant teenager. It is positively adorable, and I press my lips into a rigid line in order to restrain a smile. "Don't be ridiculous," she objects snappishly. "There's no such thing as _plenty of time _anymore." Her mouth begins to form that incredibly tempting pout, her lower lip jutting out as she tilts her chin upward, and I swallow back another growl – one that is exasperated as well as enticed. "That concept does not exist," she goes on, her nostrils flaring as she gears up for an argument. "I have a lot to learn and –"

I lean forward until our faces are mere inches apart, cutting her off in mid-sentence. "Tomorrow."

Emmett starts to protest mentally, and my head whips to the side, my eyes narrowing to slits as a rumble wells up inside my throat. His topaz eyes widen at my hostile glare. _Okay…_ He raises both hands – one clutching the remote, of course – in mock-surrender. _No practice tonight. Got it. Don't get your panties in a twist. _Rolling my eyes, I loosen the tensed muscles in my arms. Emmett notices my relaxing stance and seizes the opportunity to get in a quick ribbing. _Now get out of here._ He cocks an eyebrow, smirking wickedly_. See if Bella can get your panties untwisted._

"You are dangerously close to breaking your end of the deal, Emmett," I warn, pulling open the front door. Bella glances first at me, and then over at our brother while Rosalie sighs in annoyance, though she has long since become used to the half-completed conversations I have with other members of our family.

_Uh-uh._ He shakes his head, grinning like a naughty child. _Bella told me that I wasn't allowed to_ say_ anything about your sex life. She never made any restrictions on what I could think, or write, or text…_

Count on Emmett to find a loophole in any set of rules.

Sighing in resignation, I usher a wary-looking Bella outside, my arm still wrapped tightly around her slender frame, and together we head into the cold, glistening forest.

As we walk, our steps so light and quick that we leave scarcely visible footprints in the thick snow, I bend down and kiss Bella's forehead. "I missed you today," I tell her in all honesty, my lips brushing her skin.

She drops her head onto my shoulder, and Renesmee stirs a bit in her arms, tiny snoring noises escaping from her open mouth. "I missed you, too," Bella responds softly. Then she turns her face towards me and presses her lips delicately to the hollow of my throat.

Less than a minute later, we are sheltered within the comforting walls of the cottage. Bella glides down the hall to put Renesmee to bed, and I linger in the darkened threshold to the little girl's room, watching fondly as Bella smoothes the blanket around her small form and strokes her tangled curls away from her peaceful face.

When she looks up and sees me leaning against the doorjamb, the love in her eyes changes, growing fiercer and scorching across the length of my body. I open my arms in wordless invitation, and she fits herself in my embrace, her mouth seeking mine hungrily.

We stumble backwards down the hall, shutting Renesmee's door and ours in the process, and collapse onto the bed, reacquainting ourselves with each other's scent and taste. I braid my fingers into her dark hair, leaving a trail of fervent kisses along her jaw, from temple to chin, and down the curve of her neck.

She lets out an almost frustrated mewl and tugs on my hair, urging me back up to her lips. Smiling into the delectable skin of her throat, I proceed to trace the graceful arcs of her collarbones with my mouth, and then begin to move downward, following the gentle slope of her breastbone.

A low growl quivers in the air. Bella suddenly twines her limbs around me and rolls to the side, imprisoning my body beneath hers. But in her haste, she misjudged the distance to the edge of the bed, and we promptly crash to the floor with a dull thud.

Lying on a heap of shredded fabric, we give ourselves to one another, temporarily entering another world where nothing else exists but the two of us and our love.

Once the intense craving has been quenched, we lay side by side, studying each other's faces, our bodies woven together like we were designed to exist as one complete being. After a moment of enjoying the sweet, contented smile on Bella's lips, I reach for her hands, holding them between us with mine.

Cradling their small, deceptively fragile-looking form in my palms, I gaze into her bright red-orange irises and grin crookedly. "These are very beautiful hands."

She laughs, the melody more exquisite than any master's symphony. Undaunted, I go on in a soft murmur, "I mean it." Turning her left hand over, I trace a fingertip along the lines in her palm, pausing several times at the rounded base of her ring. "When we sat together in Biology, I used to stare at your hands – just so I knew that you were still there, because I was afraid to look into your eyes."

I had been such an egotistical fool then, thinking that I could avert the course of destiny through sheer force of will, denying myself a mere, undiluted glimpse of her face with my own eyes instead of using someone else's thoughts as a conduit.

A memory flashes to the forefront of my mind: Bella's soft, pale hands clutching a plastic bottle of lemonade as she stared at me across the cafeteria table, her meek voice trembling slightly as she asked,_ "You're dangerous?"_

My grin brightens eagerly. "I want to show you something," I tell her, and spring to my feet, her confused stare following me as I dart into the closet. Opening a drawer built into the far wall, I dig out a folded piece of sapphire blue cloth and race back to her side. She slowly sits up as I carefully unwrap the keepsake, and then reach for her hand, laying it gently in her palm.

She eyes it with an incredulous expression for a few seconds. "It's a…" Her eyes flick upward to meet mine. "…bottle cap," she remarks in a dubious monotone.

"Yes," I nod. She probably does not remember; her human memories are far dimmer than what her new mind is used to processing. It was only a minor detail then, as well – maybe even she missed what had transpired in that moment.

Bella raises her eyebrows, waiting for an explanation. "I don't get it," she finally admits. "Why do you have a plastic bottle cap?"

I hold her gaze in silence briefly before replying quietly, "Because it was yours."

"Mine?" She blinks, surprised.

Speaking in a tender, measured tone, I take her hands in mine once again as I question her, "Do you remember the first time we sat together at lunch?"

Her brow crinkles at bit in concentration, and then she declares almost stubbornly, "Yes."

I smile faintly, my thumbs stroking the insides of her thin wrists. "What we talked about that day…it was one of the most important conversations we'd ever had. But more than that, it was the day I decided that I could not stay away from you anymore." I lower my eyes to the yellow plastic lid in her hand, murmuring, "You said yes to me three times – when I asked you to go to Seattle with me, when you came over to my table in the cafeteria, and when you sat down across from me. I wanted to not only remember that moment, but to have a tangible reminder of what I wanted, and I wanted much more than your blood." My voice has faded to a whisper as I finish my explanation. Bella senses my turbulent emotions and moves her free hand out of my grasp, only to slide her fingers lightly up and down my forearm, soothing me with her touch.

"I wanted to be worthy of your trust," I say in a rough undertone, lifting my gaze from our clasped hands to her face. "Trust that I was so undeserving of, yet you gave it without a moment's hesitation." _And how that would frustrate me, _I reflect sardonically. One corner of my mouth pulls up, and I conclude, "So I kept this bottle cap as a memento of your trust in me. Now:" I gently push her hand, and the bottle cap, towards her, smiling at her astonished gawk. "It is a symbol of my trust in you."

She stumbles over a reply; I place two fingers over her lips, hushing her attempt to disagree. "Bella," I caress her name with my tongue, "I trust you with my heart, my life, and my soul. Everything that I am." Removing my hands from hers, I cup her face in my palms and lean forward, until my entire universe is only in her eyes. "And I trust you when you say that we will never be apart," I avow huskily, choked with emotion. "That no matter what happens here, you will always be with me. Forever."

Her breath hitches, her full lips trembling as she whispers my name like a reverent prayer, and then her body covers mine, her passionate kisses flavored with the sweetness of joy and the tang of grief.

Clinging to her as though we have been permanently welded together, I banish all thought of the secret she holds within her silent mind. It no longer matters. Instead, I will do what I can this night, and for the rest of eternity, to make her happy.

And as we ride the crest of the storm, our souls uniting as wholly as our entwined bodies, I feel her lips against my ear, her breathless voice whispering the three words that have become the foundation of my entire existence. Three words that fill me with the hope of heaven.

"I love you."

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**Author's Notes:** Portions of the dialogue are cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 629-632, and 649-652. Also, some references and dialogue are quoted from the partial draft of _Midnight Sun_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 113-114, 118-125, and 144-145.

I also owe my gratitude to jeesiechreesie, from whose story _"Atlas Shrugged"_ I got the idea to use_ Rêverie_ by Claude Debussy as the piece Edward plays on the piano. It is a very beautiful, soothing composition, and if you have the opportunity, I suggest you give it a listen.


	16. Declared

**Chapter Notes:** A dear reader of mine asked me to please post another chapter by the end of the month. I told her that she had set the bar – hence, I give you all the next installment of _"Metamorphosis"._

Enjoy!

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We are running out of time.

This knowledge is the driving force behind a renewed sense of urgency that permeates the atmosphere surrounding our small corner of the world. Every vampire is affected in some way.

Hunting patterns shift as the need to magnify physical strength increases. Some of our visitors, with Emmett as their motivator, begin drilling one another in hand-to-hand combat techniques to hone their skills – and to release some of the tension that seems to coat the grounds just as surely as the thin layer of ice that rains down in silvery ribbons from a charcoal-violet sky.

Those with an ability make preparations as well.

Benjamin doubles his efforts for control of his gift on a daily basis, and more often than not can be seen outside, sitting on the frozen meadow with his palms pressed into the dirt as he tries to locate fault lines in the earth.

Kate begins to minimalize the use of her power, explaining to an ever-curious Garrett that she can store a charge like a battery – preserving the full potency of her talent for the Volturi's arrival.

And Zafrina, with her vigilant ruby eyes and imposing presence, steals Bella from my side every morning as soon as we reach the house for practice, insisting despite Bella's less than enthusiastic attitude that she must develop her shielding capabilities.

On the eve of the winter solstice, Carlisle and I call everyone together in the main room to lay out our next course of action.

In silence, the others file in, finding places to sit or stand all throughout the cavernous area, but their minds are so loud that I have to concentrate intently on distinguishing one thought from another.

Bella, the only completely silent person in the room, becomes my counterpoint for the mental chaos inside my head. For several seconds, I focus on her blank consciousness and find respite – but I cannot linger for long, as my father is depending upon my ability to monitor the thoughts of our guests.

In a low, passive voice, Carlisle informs the group that because we have no specific timetable for the Volturi's coming other than the fact that the field was blanketed thickly with snow in Alice's vision, we plan to stay at that location for a few days.

It is his hope that we can prevent any vampires from venturing too close to Forks if we lead their tracker to us, and since he and I have determined that Demetri has most likely latched onto my mental signature – once we reach the field, I will stay there for the duration.

Once again, Carlisle offers them the choice to remain behind, though all we are asking for is that they witness on our behalf, but no one speaks up.

Afterward, Benjamin pulls me aside and animatedly describes his idea of burying twenty or so stones in the field – 'vampire booby traps', he calls them – that could successfully distract an opponent long enough for someone on our side to take them out.

Furious eyes burn into Benjamin's back, and equally enraged thoughts pummel me as Amun watches our conversation from the stairwell. I can only make out snatches of his internal ranting; the Arabic vampire has taken to thinking in a dialect spoken by his Bedouin ancestors in order to disguise his mind from my ability, but I grasp the general concept. He would like nothing more than to withdraw his coven from our company and return home. He also knows that Benjamin has grown fond of my family, and will never choose to leave, so I believe that Amun will not act on his desire…for now.

The following morning, sunlight dances across the glaze of ice decorating the forest, the clusters of needles on the fir trees shimmering like tiny prisms.

Zafrina and Bella are out back, facing each other from a short distance. The Amazon vampire's dark skin resembles the glossy facets of an onyx as she treads sinuously around the meadow, and Bella glitters more brilliantly that the blinding white glow of the ice-covered landscape, her chocolate brown hair a striking contrast to her alabaster features.

Stepping away from the windows, I turn and peer into the living room. Nearly the entire wooden floor has been hidden by a tiny replica of Forks, constructed out of small colored blocks. Roads snake around the sofa and chairs, under the staircase, and even beneath my piano. Small, bright green trees dot the empty spaces between the buildings and – I smile widely – there is a little black and white police car parked outside a house that is a miniature duplicate of Charlie's home.

Beside the window wall, Jacob and Renesmee are working on a model of the highway. He lays down a rectangular white block; Renesmee promptly touches his bare arm, a fierce glower on her lovely face, and demands that the road be finished with only_ black_ blocks. At once, he corrects his error by snapping the proper-colored block in place, and she nods in satisfaction.

Certain that the two of them will be entertained for some time, I walk over to the computer and remove a small package from my jacket pocket.

I had purchased the MP3 player for Renesmee yesterday, albeit covertly – Rosalie had volunteered to run the errand while testing the modifications she made to her convertible – and had been waiting for the opportunity to store my favorite music on the device.

While the download is in progress, I scour the Internet for an appropriate Christmas present for Charlie. Bella has not mentioned buying a gift for her father, so I assume that the notion has not crossed her mind.

Rather than subject her, and ultimately myself, to Charlie's disappointment, I select a top-grade fishing sonar system from a reputable outdoorsman website and pay for it to be shipped overnight. Esme is a genius with wrapping paper; she can give free rein to her talent on the box when it arrives.

Christmas Eve is a relatively sober affair – though for me, it is a vast improvement from my last Christmas – and from the way Bella remains staunchly at my side, I expect that she feels the same.

Charlie's gift is left on our doorstep in mid-afternoon by a very frazzled-looking delivery truck driver, and my mother's expression lights up when I ask her to wrap the box. She immediately disappears downstairs, only to return seconds later with an armful of tubes of festive paper, a box of bows and ribbons in her hands.

As Esme debates internally which color scheme to use, Bella leans over to murmur in my ear, "Whose Christmas present is she wrapping?"

I glance down at her, studying her curious gaze with surprise. "Your father's," I tell her quietly.

She seems confused for a moment, and then a look of absolutely horrified embarrassment contorts her perfect face. With a gasp, she exclaims, "I totally forgot about Charlie! He would've been so upset – and after everything I've put him through the last few months… Was it expensive?"

I chuckle at her swiftly changing phrases. "I know you forgot, love, that's why I ordered a gift. Don't be anxious," I add, pressing a soft kiss to her brow. "As for said gift being expensive…" I shrug one shoulder in casual nonchalance. "Let's just say that it's a step towards due compensation for all the stress he's had to deal with lately."

She grimaces, and mutters under her breath, "So it was only a_ small_ fortune, then." Suddenly, her expression clears, and she smiles a little, her eyes regaining some of their usual sparkle. "That's okay. I trust you," she says simply.

Such a sentiment cannot go unanswered. Bending down, I tilt her chin upward with one finger and brush my lips against hers, a mutual sigh wafting between us at the brief contact. "And I trust you," I remind her in a whisper.

_Edward,_ Esme calls in an abstracted tone, _could you please indulge your mother with a few carols? I think we all need our spirits lifted._

I sigh, and start to pull away from Bella. She frowns in puzzlement, so I clarify, "Esme wants me to serenade her with some mood music." Her features smooth out, and she grins encouragingly before settling further into her seat, a picture of rapt attention.

I cross the room to the piano – stepping carefully over Renesmee's tiny town – and sit on the bench, sifting through my memory for a selection of traditional carols. Most of the melodies are incredibly simple, so I embellish each piece with descants, added chords and varying tempos.

Esme sends her gratitude and then begins to sing along, her gentle soprano voice lower-pitched than Alice's, but full of warmth and emotion.

One song in particular stirs a mixture of conflicting emotions as my mother croons in her mellow timbre, the lyrics haunting every corner of the house and my mind, ripe with double meaning.

"_God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay…"_

I find myself, however futilely, picturing the Christmas we should be having this year. The whole family would gather in this room, on this night, and decorate an enormous pine tree – the largest that Emmett could successfully maneuver through the front door.

Then, in the morning, the space underneath the tree would literally overflow with gifts. Most of them would be for Renesmee, of course, but each family member would have bought a little something for everyone else.

I could imagine my daughter's childlike eagerness, my parent's loving smiles, my brothers' laughter, my sisters' good-natured demands for photo opportunities…and most importantly, my Bella's radiant joy and feigned disapproval when she received my gift – another 'hand-me-down' piece of jewelry from my inheritance…

Forcefully, I wrench myself from the daydream, for it is nothing more than that – a dream. This is a critical time for my family, and it is irresponsible of me to become lost in visions of what could have been.

Yet Esme's voice continues to ring melodically in my ears, spinning thin, glistening threads of fond memories and future hopes.

"_O, tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy… O, tidings of comfort and joy."_

At dawn, Bella and I retrieve a sleepy-eyed Renesmee from her crib and sit in front of the fireplace, her two little gifts laid out on the mantle.

She regards the locket with delighted reverence, the tiny circle a perfect fit in her palm, and as soon as she pries it open, her curiosity flares. "Momma, what does this say?" she asks, pointing at the elegant inscription.

"It says 'more than my own life', sweetheart," Bella answers softly. She reaches out and pulls her fingers with gentle care through the little girl's tangled bronze ringlets, murmuring, "That's how much we love you."

"I love you and Daddy that much, too," Renesmee insists, giving us her vivid, glittering smile.

Bella swallows hard, her lips pressing together tightly, and then flexes her mouth into a faint grin. "Would you like me to help you put it on?"

She nods excitedly and crawls into her mother's lap, holding out the necklace. Bella moves her long curls aside and loops the chain gently around our daughter's slender throat, closing the latch. The locket brushes over Renesmee's breastbone – so near her precious, fluttering heart – and the sparkling gold chain enhances the rosy flush of her ivory skin.

"Beautiful," I tell her warmly. In response, she lifts a small hand and touches the locket with her fingertips, a wondering look on her cherubic face.

A quiet, shuddering breath issues from Bella, and I swiftly wind my arm around her, pulling her body closer to mine. Before Renesmee can pick up on her mother's distress, I remind her of the other gift.

She tears open the silver-wrapped box gleefully and removes the MP3 player, examining the device from every angle as I explain what it is and how to use it. In less than a minute, Renesmee has the ear buds on, music filtering through her thoughts as well as remembered images of her locket.

"Are you all right?" I whisper to Bella in a rapid burst while our daughter is thoroughly preoccupied.

She inhales deeply, and then sighs, glancing at me with an almost rueful expression. "Yeah."

I would like to wish her a Merry Christmas, but the jovial spirit of the holiday has not visited me this year, and I have no desire to offer an artificial salutation. So, I nestle my face into the curve of her neck, my lips caressing her skin as I speak the only truth that is relevant in my world. "I love you."

Cheery, ridiculously loud singing abruptly fills my head, and I jerk away from her with a growl. "What is it?" she questions warily.

"Jacob," is all I can say in reply.

_Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la  
'Tis the season – something, something, fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la_

I scoff under my breath. The dog cannot even remember the words to the simplest song. "He _really _shouldn't sing," I grumble, trying vainly to block his thoughts from my perception. _"Ever."_

Bella kisses my cheek in sympathy and then rises to walk over to the door, opening it just as Jacob raises his fist to knock. A brilliant grin lights up his russet face, and he throws his arms around her, shouting, "Merry Christmas, Bells!" He releases her an instant later and waltzes into the cottage, his dark eyes locked on Renesmee even while he punches me lightly on the shoulder in greeting.

Pleased as always to see him, the little girl shows off her presents as Jacob sits cross-legged on the ground in front of her. "Wow, those are great, honey," he remarks, but his thoughts are growing nervous and oddly disjointed. _Don't chicken out, Jake – she'll love it… they understand how it is – no reason to get all worked up…_

My eyes narrow at him in suspicion. He visibly gulps, but otherwise ignores my glare as he fidgets and clears his throat. "I, uh –" He pulls a small white square from the pocket of his worn jeans. "I have something for you." Quickly, he places the box in Renesmee's lap, a lopsided smile contrasting with his tense features. "Merry Christmas, Nessie."

Her tiny fingers pry off the lid, and lying atop a piece of white cotton is a multicolored braided circlet, adorned at the center with a polished sphere of white stone shot through with veins of pale gray. Renesmee's brown eyes widen in awe as Bella peers into the box, her eyebrows arching high on her forehead. "It's beautiful, Jake," she compliments. "Did you make it?"

"Yup." He watches avidly while Renesmee plucks the bracelet from the box, his gaze twinkling with barely suppressed elation as she gingerly pushes her hand through the woven band. "Emily helped me put the stone on, though. It's from an earring that belonged to my mom," he tells us in a low voice. Then he shrugs sheepishly and mumbles, "My dad told me it's called howlite." Faint blotches of red appear on his cheeks.

"Naturally," I snarl in biting sarcasm. I can see all too clearly where this exchange is heading, and though I understand, I do not like it one bit. Imprinting may be unavoidable, but she is still only a _child_ – more than that, she is _my daughter_. The scenario has changed, yet Jacob's intention to mark Renesmee as his own is the same as when he gave Bella the charm bracelet at her graduation party.

Jacob cringes a little in response to my retort. Renesmee blinks up at me, startled, and Bella's sharp eyes cut to mine, full of silent warning. I grit my teeth and hold my tongue, fighting back the impulse to breathe through my nose. The powerful stench of wet dog will only goad my temper.

After waiting a beat, Renesmee places her hand on Jacob's chin, picturing the bracelet and saturating the image with deep gratitude.

He smiles in relief. "You're welcome." The pounding rhythm of his heart accelerates as his features shift into a solemn, compelling expression, and he vows, "This bracelet is my promise to you, Nessie. I will always be there for you, whenever you need me. Always." He shoots me a brief glance, measuring the veiled hostility in my eyes, and then peers at Bella.

Surprisingly, she seems completely at ease with the implications of his gift. "We should get going," she remarks in a lighthearted tone. "Charlie's waiting for us."

In a quarter of an hour, the four of us are piling into my Volvo, Charlie's gift secured in the trunk, and we make our way with the rest of the holiday traffic on the slick highway to Forks.

Judging from the cluster of vehicles parked outside the Swan residence, and the sudden assault of excited thoughts on my brain, it is a fair guess that there are quite a number of overzealous wolves crammed inside the small house.

"It seems we've kept everyone waiting," I comment to no one in particular as I pull the Volvo into a tight space beside the tree in the front yard and a weather-beaten blue sedan.

Bella worries her bottom lip nervously. "I didn't think they would be here yet," she mutters, referring to the rest of Jacob's pack.

"It's Christmas," Jacob says with a shrug from the back seat. "The one day a year when even_ I_ don't sleep in."

As soon as I turn off the engine and car doors begin to pop open, the front door swings wide, followed by a boisterous cry of, "Merry Christmas, kids!"

Bella's back is to her father, and I watch over the roof of the Volvo as she composes her expression right before pasting on a passably genuine smile. "Hey, Dad," she greets while turning to face him.

"'Hey, Dad'?" Charlie sweeps her into a quick hug, his tone mildly incredulous. "C'mon, Bells, you gotta show more enthusiasm than that. It's Christmas!" He backs away and shakes my hand, pretending not to be startled by the fact that I looped around the car to Bella's side in less than a second. "I hope you're in more of the holiday spirit than the Scrooge here, Edward," he tells me good-naturedly while jabbing a thumb in his daughter's direction.

Rather than wait for a response that I am not prepared to give, Charlie bends down and scoops Renesmee into his arms, stifling a grunt as he notices the change in her weight. "Merry Christmas to you, too, Nessie," he announces, grinning broadly. "There's lots of presents inside with your name on 'em. Want to go see?"

Renesmee bobs her head and he promptly carts her across the yard and through the door, Jacob trotting along on his heels. A chorus of greetings rings out as they disappear inside.

Bella stays with me as I retrieve the beautifully wrapped package from the trunk, and together we head towards the house.

Entering Charlie's living room is almost like walking into a furnace. The feverish bodies of six werewolves have soaked warmth into every corner of the home, their pungent aroma nearly overpowering the subtle, appealing scent of the three humans intermingling with this rather unconventional gathering of supernatural creatures.

Floating above the thick musk of the wolves are faint notes of pine, dust, the sweet, minty fragrance of peppermint, and the less than appetizing stench of cooking food.

I prop Charlie's gift on the wall beside the half-decorated tree as Emily waves at Bella timidly from the worn sofa – a greater gesture of good faith than she has shown in a while – and Bella makes her way over to the other woman, exchanging brief words with Quil and Embry in the meantime.

A large, scorching hot palm thumps onto my shoulder, accompanied by Seth's enthusiastic voice. "Long time no see, man! How're things?"

I glance at him with a small smile. "Same as always." Then, I add jokingly, "Though I_ was_ getting used to not having to put up with the smell of wet dog polluting the air."

"It beats whatever B.O. you've got going on," Seth jibes in return, waving a hand in front of his nose.

"You get used to it," Jacob interjects as he saunters past, his head now covered by a felt Santa hat, and he plops down on the floor by the tree, where Renesmee is eyeing the colorful boxes speculatively.

There is a short silence, and I can hear the shift in everyone's thoughts, their attention drifting back to the imminent advent that is fast approaching. Quil peers cautiously over a shoulder in the direction of the kitchen, and then turns to face the room, muttering under his breath, "Sam told us yesterday that you're planning on heading to the field in a few days."

Bella stiffens, and ceases to breathe – a reflex reaction to stress. Jacob nods once at his pack member, his laid-back demeanor waning, and Quil looks eagerly over at Embry, his dark eyes abruptly fierce with a sort of wild glee. "We've got an edge this time. I remember the lay of the land exactly. The vampire mafia isn't going to know what hit them."

"Though we_ are_ trying to avoid a fight, Quil," I remind him in a low murmur.

He dismisses this with a quick jerk of his head, rolling his eyes. "I know. But it never hurts to be prepared, right?"

I cannot argue with that logic.

"Yeah, but…" Seth gazes down solemnly at his pack brother. "If it does come to a fight, it'll be different than the last one. Those bloodsuckers were newborns. Easy targets. You weren't there when Edward was fighting the redhead," he says, his memories of that morning in the clearing surfacing with vivid clarity in his mind. "She was _lethal,_ man, and she couldn't do the stuff that some of these other leeches can do."

At the mention of Victoria, Bella becomes an icy statue on her father's couch. I do not think she has taken a breath since this discussion began. Emily's eyes dart sideways to her apprehensively.

Embry speaks up, pointing out, "They haven't seen what_ we_ can do yet, either. They don't even know we_ exist_ yet. That's gotta count for something," he remarks. Quil nods in agreement.

From the corner of my eye, I see Leah pressed against the doorway of the kitchen, her sharp features hardened into a mask of indifference, though inwardly she is concerned for the safety of her people if anything should happen to the Quileutes' protectors.

"Enough." Emily glares sternly at each of us, her soft voice ringing with a maternal authority that is reminiscent of Esme. "No more talk of any fighting. It's Christmas."

She is the third person in the last hour to offer that phrase as a justification. For whatever reason, it works, and the three wolves avert their gazes, cowed into silence.

Emily gets up from her seat shortly after to offer assistance to her aunt in preparing the food, and I swiftly take her place, wrapping my arm around Bella's rigid shoulders. "Breathe, love," I whisper in her ear. Her chest heaves with a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and I lay a kiss on her cheek.

Jacob pulls his stare from Renesmee long enough to meet mine, offering a mental apology. I incline my head every so slightly in acknowledgement.

Lunch is served not long after, and the wolves fill their plates to overflowing, eating with almost obscene gusto. Renesmee tolerates the small fare Charlie sets before her – more to humor him than to keep up with the human façade – and because the food is set up as a buffet, it is a simple matter for Bella and I to feign consumption, as Jacob cleans off two plates and pretends that they are ours.

When it comes time for the gifts, everyone watches Renesmee unwrap her presents with the same avid fascination that she instills in all whom she meets.

Once she has finished, and is enthralled by the miniature upright piano Charlie purchased for her, Bella stands and retrieves his gift from the corner, handing it to him with a tiny smile. "Merry Christmas, Dad."

"Aw, Bells…" He accepts the package – beautifully wrapped in a deep red paper emblazoned with intricate swirls and adorned by a large gold bow. "You didn't have to do that," he chides halfheartedly.

"Open it," she insists.

Tugging on the edges of the paper gingerly, as though reluctant to ruin Esme's handiwork, Charlie slowly pulls out the box. He tears into the brown packing cardboard with enthusiastic curiosity and then holds up the sonar system, his mouth hanging open in amazement. "This is… it's… _wow."_

"Edward picked it out," Bella comments a bit shyly.

His awed gaze turns to me, so I add in a good-natured tone, "I know how much you enjoy fishing. This should help you bring in a bigger catch."

"Thank you," he says fervently, his attention alternating between Bella and I. Then, he removes the sonar instruction manual from the box and starts to read, engrossed in every detail.

Renesmee wanders over to him after a moment, and he places her in his lap, holding the booklet so they both can see – though of course, Charlie is not aware that she is able to comprehend the words. "See this, Nessie?" he remarks, pointing at something on the pages. "Your Grampa's going to beat his personal record for the most fish caught once the season starts up again. And maybe," he peers with a half-smile up at Bella, "you'll get to come with me a few times."

Bella's lips twitch, like she is trying to smile, but the pained distortion of her pale features is glaringly obvious to me, so Charlie has undoubtedly noticed, as well.

Sure enough, he frowns a little in concern and asks, "Are you okay, Bells? You seem a little…down today." Reflexively, his eyes dart sideways to me. From what I can discern of his thoughts, he appears confused as to why his daughter is acting so sad, and instead of accusing me, he is hoping that I will offer an answer.

She forcibly exhales, arranging her expression into an appropriate look of liveliness, and says as an excuse, "I've just got a lot on my mind, Dad. I'm fine."

"You sure?"

She nods, and quickly reaches for my hand, lacing her fingers through mine and squeezing once – a clear cry for help. I lean forward and motion to the manual in his hand, stating, "Did you get to the part where it talks about setting the sonar to detect bottom composition and depth?"

His suspicion fades at once as he reverts back to his earlier sense of awe. "It does that?" He blinks, and looks down at the device sitting on his leg beside Renesmee with wide eyes.

Charlie spends the remainder of our visit buried in the instruction manual while Sue brings him mugs of steaming coffee. Their friendly yet bashful interaction with one another hints at feelings that must be developing beneath the surface, and I find that I am pleased – as I am sure Bella is, as well. She had been so afraid of leaving her father alone after our marriage and her change; it is a comfort to know that, since there is a chance he may never see any of us again, he and Sue will have one another to turn to for support.

In the early evening, Sam and Emily are the first to depart, propelling the rest of us into action.

Jacob's pack files out next; Seth claps me on the shoulder as he passes while promising silently to meet up with our family again at the field whenever Jake gives the signal.

We load Renesmee's gifts in the trunk and call goodbyes to Charlie and Sue, a palpable sensation of relief emanating from Bella and Jacob as well as myself while I guide the Volvo down the street, the house shrinking in the rearview mirror.

Quiet descends on the car throughout the trip home. Jacob lounges in the back seat, teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, and Renesmee fiddles with her locket, opening and closing the tiny latch as she hums inaudibly to herself.

Chancing a brief glance at Bella, I notice that she is staring out the window, the backlit lavender glow of the sky causing the droplets on the glass to create a watery pattern on her skin.

The familiar burn of curiosity smolders in the back of my mind, urging me to voice the eternal question, but I remember the vow I made to her a few nights ago. Instead, I reach for her hand, tugging gently until our clasped fingers are resting on my thigh.

A thin sheet of ice is beginning to form on the highway pavement, and the amount of cars on the road has dramatically dwindled. From what I gather via the anxious thoughts of a nearby driver, the weather service is cautioning area residents to stay indoors tonight, as the precipitation will be changing from sleet to snow in the early morning hours.

I easily overtake the careful humans still out navigating the roads and turn onto the dirt path, the shadows of the forest welcoming and familiar.

However, as we near the house, the low buzz of raised voices echoes through the walls, intermixed with a smattering of growls. Instantly on guard, I open my mind…and the virtual explosion of thought overwhelms me for a fraction of a second.

I park the Volvo out in the front of the house, gritting my teeth while I struggle to suppress the tide of unchecked mental observations, and meet Bella's wary eyes before we exit the car at the same time.

By now, Jacob has picked up on the angry din inside and clambers out of the back seat, settling into his inherent role as leader of his people's guardians. _What's going on?_ he asks me, his black-brown eyes alert.

Bella and Renesmee stare at my hardened expression with the same question coloring their delicate features.

"Alistair is gone," I announce under my breath as we race soundlessly up the steps and dart indoors.

The living room has the tense air of a battle arena. Vampires stand in an unbroken line against the walls, their combined attention fixated on the trio facing off in the center of the crowd. Another group of three hovers close to this one; Esme, Kebi, and Tia look on worriedly – Tia fidgets a few times, like she wants to approach but remains in place – as Carlisle and Benjamin stand across from Amun. It seems that the Arabic vampire's growing inclination to leave has finally come to a head.

Clenching my jaw, I grip Bella's hand and pull her behind me while I move to flank Esme. A trickle of relief breaks through her anxious thoughts – but upon noticing Renesmee gripped tightly in Bella's free arm, my mother angles her body subtly, putting herself between Amun and her granddaughter.

Carlisle spreads his hands wide in a gesture of sincerity, his tone placid as he says, "Amun, if you want to go, no one is forcing you to stay."

_Don't let the door hit you on the way out,_ Emmett thinks acidly. Swiftly, I pick out his huge, tense form about a yard from the confrontation. From the way Rosalie's slim hand rests on his crossed arms, I would guess that she is preparing to hold him back in case Amun physically threatens our father. Although, given the harsh resentment glowing within her ocher irises, she may be more liable to join in the foray rather than attempt to keep the peace.

How have things begun to unravel so quickly in our absence?

Yelling a string of Middle Eastern insults in his head, Amun screeches at Carlisle, his mouth contorted into a snarl, "You're stealing half my coven, Carlisle!" He points at Benjamin, who regards his creator without expression, though his eyes blaze with irritation. "Is that why you called me here?" Amun continues to shout. He is practically beside himself in his rage. "To_ steal_ from me?"

My father sighs, weary of this quarrel. _He is seeing deceit where there is none,_ he laments inwardly.

_This is ridiculous._ Benjamin rolls his eyes and replies, his voice thick with sarcasm, "Yes, Carlisle picked a fight with the Volturi, endangered his whole family, just to lure me here to my death." He stifles a snort. "Be reasonable, Amun. I'm committed to do the right thing here – I'm not joining any other coven." Lifting one shoulder in an indifferent shrug, he adds, "You can do whatever you want, of course, as Carlisle has pointed out." _But I am staying._ There is not the slightest hint of wavering in his mind.

"This won't end well," Amun hisses, labeling us all fools mentally. "Alistair was the only sane one here. We should all be running."

On Esme's opposite side, Tia mutters in a wry tone, "Think of who you're calling sane."

Several onlookers grin at her remark; Amun glares in her direction, but shouts to the room as a whole, "We're all going to be slaughtered!"

_A right little ray of sunshine, aren't you,_ Kate sneers. Energy fizzles sporadically in her palm, and she envisions dropping Amun to the ground with one shock.

Tanya eyes her sternly, but knows as well as I that the threat is unfounded. If Kate truly wanted to attack him, she would have done so without a second's hesitation, and he would now be a twitching heap on the hardwood floor.

With firm conviction, Carlisle declares, "It's not going to come to a fight."

"You say!" Amun retorts heatedly.

Ever the peacemaker, my father offers in a calm, even voice, "If it does, you can always switch sides, Amun." The Denali sisters hiss at this response, and Maggie sucks in a sharp breath, surprised by Carlisle's truthfulness. "I'm sure the Volturi will appreciate your help," he says, ignoring the outbursts around him.

Amun's face twists into a blatant display of scorn. "Perhaps that_ is_ the answer," he growls.

Emmett jerks forward; Rose's fingers tighten on his forearm and he settles back in place, his lips rippling in a silent snarl.

_It is their choice to remain or not,_ Carlisle reminds himself, and he murmurs aloud, "I wouldn't hold that against you, Amun." His sincerity baffles the Arabic vampire, and most everyone in the room, as well – except for those who know him best. "We have been friends for a long time, but I would never ask you to die for me." _I would be no better than the Volturi if I asked for their lives._ Carlisle's topaz gaze flits briefly to me, and then to Esme, Bella, Renesmee, and Rose and Em on the other side of the room_. If I could, I would spare my family from this conflict, too. _He slowly reaches out and places a hand on Amun's shoulder.

Amun shakes him off, his deep red eyes cutting and his voice sharp as he pronounces, "I'll stay, Carlisle, but it might be your detriment. I_ will_ join them if that's the road to survival." His glare never leaves Carlisle as he thinks scathingly for my benefit, _You can see the certainty of my words, mind reader._ Then he goes on aloud, "You're all fools to think that you can defy the Volturi." He breathes out heavily, scowling, and peers sidelong at Bella and our daughter. "I will witness that the child has grown," Amun decides, exasperated. "That's nothing but the truth. Anyone would see that."

"That's all we've ever asked," my father says in the same calm tone.

Grimacing, Amun observes in a cross mumble, "But not all you are getting, it seems." He raises his eyes to Benjamin, glowering at the younger vampire, and claims, "I gave you life. You're wasting it." _Willful, ignorant child._

Ice seems to cover Benjamin's features, molding them into hard, unyielding shapes, and a glacial chill soaks into his youthful voice, making him appear as old as his years instead of his physical age. Tilting his chin in defiance, he tells Amun, "It's a pity you couldn't replace my will with your own in the process; then you would have been satisfied with me."

Amun's eyes narrow, irked and perturbed by the thinly veiled challenge in Benjamin's statement.

The two contend with one another in silence for a full second – then Amun gestures brusquely to his mate, and he and Kebi vanish through the front door.

Bella glances up at me, her eyes wide. "He's not leaving," I assure her quietly, "but he'll be keeping his distance even more from now on." My stare flicks to the doorway, disquiet churning uncomfortably in the pit of my stomach. "He wasn't bluffing when he spoke of joining the Volturi." Of their own accord, my fingers constrict around her hand.

She leans closer; I lower my head to hear her whisper, "Why did Alistair go?"

"No one can be positive; he didn't leave a note." I grin crookedly, hoping to lighten the mood, and Bella quirks an eyebrow, waiting for me to continue. "From his mutters," I tell her, "it's been clear that he thinks a fight is inevitable." She nods almost imperceptibly, no doubt remembering the words we had overheard him speak that day in my old room. "Despite his demeanor, he actually does care too much for Carlisle to stand with the Volturi. I suppose he decided the danger was too much," I conclude with a shrug.

Eleazar, listening in to our conversation just like most everyone in attendance, chooses to speak up. "From the sound of his mumbling, it was a bit more than that. We haven't spoken much of the Volturi's agenda, but Alistair worried that no matter how decisively we can prove your innocence, the Volturi will not listen." He looks around the room, meeting the eyes of all. "He thinks they will find an excuse to achieve their goals here."

The others exchange glances in apprehension, snatches of thoughts filtering through my brain – hinting at those who are beginning to see the Volturi for what they are: greedy and power-hungry – and those who are still reluctant to become involved in any open confrontation with the vampire hierarchy.

The only exceptions are the Romanians. Wearing small, ironic smiles, Stefan and Vladimir emit a slight aura of amusement in regard to this entire situation.

After a few seconds, clusters of vampires converge, speaking to one another in hushed tones.

Eleazar turns to Carmen and Tanya, and Garrett lopes after Kate as she crosses the room to stand near Rosalie and Emmett. Esme glides from my side to Carlisle, and the vacated space gives me an open view of the Romanians, who bend towards one another to confer – but not before Vladimir shoots a speculative glance in Bella's direction, pondering to himself, _The scales are tipped in our favor…but it can easily become unbalanced._

Puzzled by his words and suspicious of his attention to my wife, I hone in on their conversation.

"I do so hope Alistair was right about this," Stefan murmurs in earnest to Vladimir. His ruby-colored eyes are bright with feral excitement. "No matter the outcome, word will spread. It's time our world saw the Volturi for what they've become. They'll never fall if everyone believes this nonsense about them protecting our way of life," he says, his voice contemptuous.

Vladimir nods once. "At least when we ruled, we were honest about what we were."

"We never put on white hats and called ourselves saints," Stefan agrees, inwardly scoffing at the idea.

Vladimir's gaze shifts to Bella again. She stares back, deliberate in her attentiveness, and a flicker of approval lightens his thoughts. It is then that I realize the Romanians_ want_ to be overheard. What I do not know yet is _why._ "I'm thinking the time has come to fight," Vladimir comments, a powerful gleam of anticipation in his eyes. "How can you imagine we'll ever find a better force to stand with? Another chance this good?" he questions his brother.

"Nothing is impossible," Stefan hedges, looking around the room critically_. These young ones lack resolve. Perhaps…with the proper incentive… _He returns his attention to Vladimir and begins to say, "Maybe someday –"

The fair-haired Romanian cuts him off. "We've been waiting for _fifteen hundred years,_ Stefan. And they've only gotten stronger with the years." There is no ire in his demeanor, however. In fact, the only description I find that fits the tone of Vladimir's mind is _cunning._

He peers at Bella in the brief pause that follows, unsurprised that both she and I are watching them unabashedly, and one corner of his mouth twitches into a ghost of a smile. "If the Volturi win this conflict," he speaks in low deliberation, "they will leave with more power than they came with. With every conquest they add to their strengths. Think of what that newborn alone could give them" – he motions to Bella with a quick jerk of his chin – "and she is barely discovering her gifts." His scarlet eyes flick sideways. "And the earth-mover," he adds, nodding towards Benjamin.

The younger vampire tenses, his spine straightening like an iron rod, and Tia softly touches his arm with her fingertips.

_We have gained their full attention, at least,_ Stefan muses to himself in satisfaction. He is correct; every pair of eyes in the house is fixed on the Romanians, and every ear is attuned to their words.

Vladimir continues in his tally of the gifted vampires, mentioning dispassionately, "With their witch twins they have no need of the illusionist or the fire touch." He looks over Stefan's shoulder at Zafrina, whose taut, sinuous frame is reminiscent of a panther on the hunt – and then at Kate, whereupon she tosses her cornsilk blonde hair away from her face, one eyebrow raised sardonically.

"Nor is the mind reader exactly necessary," Stefan observes, his measuring stare landing on me for a second, and then he turns back to Vladimir. "But I see your point. Indeed, they will gain much if they win."

His brother arches his pale brows high on his forehead. "More than we can afford to have them gain," he prompts expectantly, "wouldn't you agree?"

A flurry of questions floods my head, and not all of them are mine. The Romanians are trying to lead us somewhere with this seemingly casual exchange, but they are guarding their thoughts well, and I am having a difficult time interpreting the meaning behind their turn of phrase.

In my peripheral vision, I see the thoughtful frown covering Bella's heart-shaped face as she mulls over the significance of their discussion.

A quiet sigh drifts throughout the room. "I think I must agree," Stefan concurs somberly. Within his mind, he is exulting. My confusion must show in my expression, for he glances at me with a faint grin and quotes an old proverb from his homeland. _Nu mâsura pe altii cu palma ta, young one._

While I struggle to decipher the translation of his thought, he leads off, "And that means…"

"That we must stand against them while there is still hope," Vladimir concludes in satisfaction.

Stefan remarks, "If we can just cripple them, even, expose them…"

"Then, someday," his fair-haired brother states triumphantly, "others will finish the job."

"And our long vendetta will be repaid." Their eyes glow at the promise of victory. "At last."

Staring at one another for a moment, their thoughts are in complete concert as they envision standing amidst our group of witnesses on a nondescript field across from the Volturi. Traces of self-preservation weave into their notions of revenge, but the strength of these thoughts pales in comparison to the Romanians' thirst for violence against Aro and his coven. In unison, they assert decisively, "It seems the only way."

"So we fight," Stefan pronounces. _Now we shall see…_

_The wheel has been set in motion,_ Vladimir muses inwardly as he says out loud, "We fight."

A delicate shudder ripples through Bella's slender body in the silent aftermath of the Romanians' declaration, and I squeeze her hand, pulling her closer to my side.

Listening to the swirl of contemplations filling the room as completely as any spoken dialogue, I realize that Vladimir is right: the wheel has indeed been set in motion. Every coven represented among us is weighing their loyalty to Carlisle and his family against the threat of falling to the Volturi, wondering if the time has come for each of them to declare their intentions.

Benjamin and Tia share a meaningful glance – asking questions of one another and receiving answers with their eyes – then Tia speaks up, her tone quietly solemn, "We will fight, too. We believe the Volturi will overstep their authority." Her passive, yet piercing crimson gaze latches onto her mate. "We have no wish to belong to them."

Benjamin grins, the boyish charm that had left his expression during the argument with Amun returning in full force as he tosses a rascally smirk at Tia, and then looks toward the Romanians. "Apparently, I'm a hot commodity," he remarks. "It appears I have to win the right to be free." _And not just from the Volturi, _he adds mentally, remembering the possessive way his creator guards his every movement.

With a startled jolt that she tries to disguise, Kate looks on as Garrett strides from her side, calling out in a dry, humorous voice, "This won't be the first time I've fought to keep myself from a king's rule." He stops in front of our group and claps Benjamin on the back, smiling rakishly. "Here's to freedom from oppression," he announces, raising an imaginary glass with his free hand.

Tanya, in the same unswerving allegiance she has displayed since the day the Denali clan arrived, raises her own voice to be counted with our supporters. "We stand with Carlisle. And we fight with him."

Kate nods in agreement, as do Eleazar and Carmen.

_I have lit enough fires on the broken bodies of my kin to last a hundred lifetimes,_ Peter reflects sadly. Like Jasper had mentioned the last time I saw him, he knew his old comrade would be intensely reluctant to consign to any fight, regardless of the cause. "We have not decided," the Southern vampire murmurs.

The tiny, doll-like blonde at his side stiffens. He peers down at her with pleading in his burgundy eyes but Charlotte avoids his gaze, staring forward, her lips pressed into a hard line. _The Volturi have crossed a line, _she rails inwardly. _Who are they to tell us how we should live, whom we should love? That child does not deserve to pay for a crime her parents did not even commit._

She continues with this particular line of thought for several seconds, even as the two remaining nomads publicize their intentions.

"The same goes for me," Randall says without qualm. _I'm here to witness, that's all, not get into a brawl with the Volturi._

Mary adds, "And me," though she seems more at odds with this choice than any of the others.

Jacob shifts his footing and crosses his arms over his chest, walking further into the room_. Well…just so everyone's clear on where we stand… _"The packs will fight with the Cullens," he proclaims in loud determination, and then a lopsided smirk brightens his face. "We're not afraid of vampires."_ But they should fear us, _he thinks, scarcely holding back a snicker. An amused puff of breath escapes my lips.

Bristling at Jacob's casual reference to the carnage of war, Peter mutters irritably, "Children."

"Infants," Randall amends, eyeing the only wolf in attendance with obvious condescension.

Jacob mocks them with his entire demeanor, exuding jovial self-confidence as his grin widens, and he tells me, _Make sure these two get a prime view of the field. I wouldn't want them to miss our 'playtime'._ He winks, and I roll my eyes.

Near the window wall, Siobhan is having some sort of wordless dispute with the youngest member of her coven. Her marble arm rests heavily on Maggie's thin shoulders, her aquiline features darkened with warning, but the small redhead ducks out of her grasp and boldly minces forward. "Well, I'm in, too," Maggie states. "I know truth is on Carlisle's side. I can't ignore that." She smiles a little at Bella and Renesmee.

Deeply worried at this turn of events, Siobhan stares at the younger vampire's back for a moment, her mind filled with anxiety, indecision, and dread.

A beat later, she shifts her ruby eyes to my father. "Carlisle." Her tone is hushed, the Irish brogue thick in her words as she converses informally with her old friend like they are the only two people in the room. "I don't want this to come to a fight."

Cradling Esme's hands in his own, Carlisle meets Siobhan's apprehensive gaze with open friendliness and replies, "Nor do I, Siobhan. You know that's the last thing I want." A faint grin curves his mouth. "Perhaps you should concentrate on keeping it peaceful," he suggests lightly.

"You know that won't help," she counters, vaguely regretful_. Still he clings to the absurd idea of me possessing an ability._ A quiet chuckle echoes in her head. _He's as stubborn as any of my kinsmen._ Fondness and mild exasperation color her expression and glitter in the depths of her scarlet irises.

Carlisle shrugs. "It couldn't hurt."

His witty rejoinder causes Esme to hide her smile by ducking her head, and Siobhan rolls her eyes in disbelief. Placing her hands on her hips, the Irish vampire tilts her head to one side and arches an auburn eyebrow. "Shall I visualize the outcome you desire?" she poses, the question fairly dripping with sarcasm.

My father's grin spreads across his face, his teeth gleaming brilliantly in the overhead light. "If you don't mind," he says cheerfully. _Her gift is subtle, but it is real. If only she would believe it._

Siobhan retorts – not harshly, but with the air of one who feels victorious – "Then there is no need for my coven to declare itself, is there?" Maggie turns to look over her shoulder at the elder vampire incredulously. "Since there is no possibility of a fight." Siobhan steps forward and puts her hand on the girl's arm, moving her back to her place near Liam, who has watched this whole discussion in stoic silence.

Bewildered looks paint the faces of nearly everyone present, but neither Siobhan or my father offer any explanations, so their conversation is soon forgotten.

Now that the dramatic interactions have passed, the crowd slowly begins to thin as some of our guests file outside and others seek diversion indoors.

Emmett plods over to the chair in front of the television and clicks it on with the remote, quickly locating a football game to shout at for a while. Rose perches herself on the arm of his chair, leaning her body against his while threading her fingers idly through his dark curls.

With so little time left until the moment that defines what remains of our existence is upon us, no one wants to be apart from their loved ones.

Bella lets out a relieved sigh and swallows out of habit; I immediately notice the barely perceptible wince that she tries to smother, realizing that while she may have the self-control of a mature vampire, she is still just as thirsty as any newborn.

The little girl in her arms is uncomfortable as well. Renesmee has no trouble eating human food, but her stomach starts to bother her after a few hours, and she needs an ingestion of blood to appease the immortal traits of her body.

"Let's go hunting," I murmur softly to the pair. Their identical heart-shaped faces light up eagerly in response, and I keep my hold on Bella's hand as we head towards the back door. "Jacob," I call over my shoulder, inviting him to come along.

He breaks eye contact with Peter, who has been glaring in Jacob's direction since he spoke up earlier, and jogs after us, irritation brewing in his mind as we walk outside. The icy rain has finally ceased, and the air is brisk, promising a snowfall – the herald of things to come.

Once we reach the frozen riverbed, Jacob growls under his breath, "Stupid leeches. Think they're so superior." He snorts derisively.

I glance at him with a slight smirk, remarking, "They'll be shocked when the_ infants_ save their superior lives, won't they?" I myself have been guilty of underestimating the wolves on numerous occasions, but after witnessing firsthand what they can accomplish through the total concert of the pack psyche, I am pleased to call them allies…and friends.

Smiling mischievously, Jacob thumps his fist into my shoulder. "Hell yeah, they will," he chortles, a wicked glint in his black eyes, and then disappears into the shadows to phase.

Renesmee wriggles out of Bella's arms as the massive red-brown wolf pads out of the underbrush, lowering his furry head to nudge her playfully with his nose, and at an unspoken signal the two of them dash into the forest, beginning their usual game of who can make the first kill.

I turn to Bella at the exact same time she peers up at me, her eyes questioning. Sweeping a hand towards the bare, frost-covered woods, I offer, "After you, love."

She sniffs once at the gust of wind that tangles her dark hair and cocks her head, listening to the distant rhythm of hoofbeats, the faint pulse of a cluster of hearts – and then leaps forward, snaking through the trees like a wraith.

I match her stride easily, following the pull of my instincts, and before the predator completely resumes control I detect a hint of preoccupation in Bella's graceful movements, as if a part of her mind is separated from the hunt.

Before I can fully examine the possible causes of her abstracted behavior, we come upon the small herd of elk we had been tracking. Even without the ability to read her mind, Bella and I have learned to anticipate one another's course of action to near perfection.

Lowering herself into a crouch, she attacks the herd straight on while I loop around to the rear, surprising those who try to flee. Bella pounces on a large female with a fierce growl and buries her face into its neck.

Satisfied that she is fulfilling her own needs, I grasp the muscular body of a three-pronged bull and snap his spine, pulling back its head to expose the throat. Then, in a rare moment of clarity, a dull thud registers in my eardrums and I glance up while baring my teeth.

The half-drained carcass of Bella's kill lies at her feet, and she stares with wide, vacant eyes at her bloodstained hands, her lips parted in horrified realization.

At once, my protective nature trumps thirst, and I drop the dead elk, rushing to her side. "What's wrong?" I ask, curling my body defensively as my eyes scan the surrounding area, searching for a threat.

Tiny white snowflakes dance through the air, melting as they land on the ground and the warm bodies of the discarded animals. Opening my awareness to discern any nearby thoughts, I pick up on Jacob's mental crowing and Renesmee's intense concentration about fifty yards to the east. Apparently, their sudden assault on the elk caused the herd to break into two groups. Subtlety, after all, is not Jacob's strong suit.

But other than that, I discover nothing out of the ordinary.

Gasping breaths escape from Bella's mouth, her dark amber eyes rounded in fear, and she chokes out, "Renesmee."

I softly stroke her upper arms, murmuring soothingly, "She's just through those trees." I nod to the right, desperate to reassure her – to do whatever it takes to banish the terror from her gaze. "I can hear both her thoughts and Jacob's," I go on in a low, comforting voice. "She's fine."

Bella shakes her head frantically. "That's not what I meant," she says, finally raising her face to mine. Snowflakes alight on her long eyelashes as she tells me, her tone bordering on hysteria, "I was thinking about my shield – you really think it's worth something, that it will help somehow."

_Of course,_ I want to tell her, but the floodgates have been opened.

She continues, her words becoming faster and tinged with dismay. "I know the others are hoping that I'll be able to shield Zafrina and Benjamin, even if I can only keep it up for a few seconds at a time. What if that's a mistake?" she asks anxiously. "What if your trust in me is the reason that we fail?"

My arms instantly engulf her slender frame, pulling her into my chest. She presses her face into the folds of my jacket, a shudder rippling through her, and I tenderly rub her back, kissing the top of her head. "Bella," I whisper into her silky locks, "what brought this on? Of course, it's wonderful that you can protect yourself, but you're not responsible for saving anyone."

Nuzzling my cheek against her temple, I inhale the sweet, floral aroma of her scent. My Bella would bear the weight of the entire world if she could. If I let her. But I need her too much to allow her penchant for martyrdom any precedence. "Don't distress yourself needlessly," I urge gently, my lips brushing her forehead.

Her small hands fist into the fabric of my shirt and she huddles deeper into my embrace. "But what if I can't protect anything?" she whispers hoarsely, taking in panting gasps of the cold air. "This thing I do, it's faulty, it's erratic! There's no rhyme or reason to it." She trembles again. I instinctively tighten my hold around her as she whimpers in defeat, "Maybe it will do nothing against Alec at all."

"Shh." Wanting so badly to alleviate her fears, to understand why these thoughts are plaguing her mind, I rock from side to side – the same way she does to soothe our daughter – and beg, "Don't panic. And don't worry about Alec. What he does is no different than what Jane or Zafrina does," I assure her. "It's just an illusion – he can't get inside your head any more than I can." No matter how hard I may wish otherwise.

Bella's head jerks up, her pale features distraught and agonized. My silent heart twists in response, echoing her emotional pain, and I reach out to cradle her face in my hands. "But Renesmee does!" she mutters through her teeth, her eyes beseeching me to see the danger in this realization. "It seemed so natural, I never questioned it before. It's always been just part of who she is. But she puts her thoughts right into my head just like she does with everyone else."

She pauses for a half-second, struggling to keep her voice down, and I figure out what must have occurred to her only minutes ago: why Renesmee is able to breach the walls surrounding her mind.

Because I have never shared my theories with Bella, she assumed the worst.

Remorse knifes through me while she hisses wildly, "My shield has holes, Edward!"

We stare at one another for a brief eternity. Bella seems to be waiting for me to experience the same horror that has befallen her, and I am trying to assemble a reply that will put all her fears to rest.

She obviously reads the calculating expression on my face, for her desperation suddenly vanishes into a dark glower, her brow lowering over her blazing red-orange eyes. "You thought of this a long time ago, didn't you?" she accuses, incensed.

Absurdly lovely, even when she is angry, I cannot muster the strength to hide my delight and amusement in her reactions. My mouth curves into a lopsided smile, and I confess, "The first time she touched you."

She lets out a lengthy sigh, her expression crumpled into a disappointed grimace – berating herself for not thinking of it sooner, I would guess – and her clenched jaw relaxes a bit under my hands. "And this doesn't bother you?" she demands, studying my face intently. "You don't see it as a problem?"

Shrugging, I answer with casual ease, "I have two theories, one more likely than the other." I smooth my thumbs over the supple contours of her cheekbones, perfectly content to spend every possible moment touching her satiny alabaster skin.

Bella wastes no time in ordering me to provide her with answers. "Give me the least likely first."

"Well," I begin in a calm, thoughtful manner, "she's your daughter. Genetically half you." A short chuckle interrupts my explanation. "I used to tease you about how your mind was on a different frequency than the rest of ours. Perhaps she runs on the same."

Shaking her head even before I am finished speaking, Bella then interjects emphatically, "But you hear her mind just fine. _Everyone _hears her mind. And what if Alec runs on a different frequency?" she frets. "What if –?"

I place my index finger on her lips, hushing her worried outburst, and she watches me, frustrated and anxious. "I've considered that," I inform her gently. The appealing texture of her full lips under my fingertip is unbelievably distracting, so I remove my hand from her mouth, cupping my palm around her neck instead. "Which is why I think this next theory is much more likely." I pause, waiting to see if she wants me to continue.

Her teeth audibly lock together, demonstrating her impatience, but she remains quiet. Restraining a smile at her aggravated pout, I ask, "Do you remember what Carlisle said to me about her, right after she showed you that first memory?"

I can tell that she is resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she replies in an _'of course' _tone, "He said, 'It's an interesting twist. Like she's doing the exact opposite of what you can.'"

"Yes," I say with a nod. "And so I wondered. Maybe she took your talent and flipped it, too." I raise my eyebrows at her expectantly, anticipating that bright flash of intuition to ignite within her gaze.

Bella's expression registers confusion, and then a pensive frown puckers her forehead as she angles her head slightly to the side, weighing my statement carefully in her mind.

I give her approximately five seconds – then the hunger to know her thoughts becomes too much to bear, and I prompt her by starting off quietly, "You keep everyone out."

"And no one keeps her out?" she concludes tentatively.

"That's my theory," I remark, smiling. "And if she can get into your head, I doubt there's a shield on the planet who could keep her at bay." Loose tendrils of Bella's chocolate-colored hair waft across her face, obscuring my view, and I wind the strands delicately around my fingers, relishing the sensation – like silk against my skin.

Caught up in the habit I had formed not long after declaring myself to Bella in our meadow, I watch the locks slip across the shape of my hand, considering aloud, "That will help. From what we've seen, no one can doubt the truth of her thoughts once they've allowed her to show them. And I think no one can keep her from showing them, if she gets close enough."

Though I would much rather keep Renesmee as far from Aro's greedy clutches as possible, granting him access to her mind is the best way to plead our case. Renata will be beside him, I am sure, but as I just surmised, Renesmee's talent can penetrate the strongest shield I know of – and that is the one generated by my wife.

"If Aro allows her to explain…" My words die away as Bella shivers, no doubt thinking of our daughter being exposed to the Italian vampire's papery, devious touch.

Sliding my hands down her neck to her shoulders, I try to rub the tension from her muscles, commenting, "Well, at least there's nothing that can stop him from seeing the truth."

She looks into my eyes with the same need for reassurance that I had craved from her weeks ago, and lays her palms on my chest. "But is the truth enough to stop him?" she asks, a faint shadow of desolation darkening her soft voice.

How she phrased that question…it seems almost rhetorical – as if she already knows what will happen, and part of her wishes that she had stayed ignorant.

Alice would sometimes act that way after she had experienced a particularly heartrending vision…

_Enough._ The self-issued command rings sternly through my brain, shattering the beginnings of speculation that have sprung up within my thoughts. I promised to trust Bella, and I will hold myself to that promise, even if she does not.

Sensing that I cannot give her the answer she seeks, Bella nestles into my arms once again, tucking her head under my chin.

We remain in that position until the scent of spilled blood from Jacob's kill strengthens the desire to hunt, and we break apart, tracing the flight of the herd through the forest.

The snow falls thickly to the ground, though the flakes disappear into the rocky earth, as Bella and I weave soundlessly among the towering trees, coming upon the elk in a few minutes.

Together, we make short work of the rest of the herd.

After her last kill tumbles limply from her arms, she turns to look at me. Flecks of blood smear one corner of her mouth, windblown tangles of dark brown hair cover the side of her face, and there is still a wildness in her vivid eyes that makes her appear more like a vampire than my Bella.

Yet, beneath the feral exterior, her whole countenance radiates love and a searing, bone-deep passion – and it draws me in like a magnet.

My body leans into a stalking crouch, my chest vibrating with a growl, and Bella responds with the growling purr I have come to adore, mimicking my stance.

No words are spoken. We are beyond words. Instinct dominates our actions, and we have become twin hunters, rejoicing over the bond we share with our mate.

She and I fly at one another, the sound of our crashing bodies resounding like thunder throughout the still wintry air, and Bella knocks me to the forest floor much like she did on her very first hunting trip, sealing her mouth to mine with possessive force.

Teeth and hands get rid of the heavy fabric separating her skin from my own, and we tussle sensuously amid the frosted leaves, merging with one another with an almost primal urgency, yet the emotion behind our union leaves me breathless.

For a single, fleeting moment of eternity, nothing else exists outside of our embrace. The feeling of her body against me, the taste of her kisses, and the joy of receiving her love becomes a beacon of hope that resurrects a nearly forgotten sense of celebration.

This is what I longed for, searched for, from the time I awakened to this life as an immortal.

Bella is my true other half – and my world, my purpose, my very existence – belongs to her.

"_You are my life now,"_ I had told her the morning after that first night she slept in my arms. But I do not think I ever fully comprehended the truth of that admission until I realized how irrevocably my spirit is tied to hers.

We must have always been one – from the very foundation of the universe – and however our souls were split into two, it was inevitable that we would find each other again.

In the deepest watches of the night, we lay on the frozen, silvery-coated ground, our bodies woven together as tiny specks of white twirl lazily around us like the illusion of being inside a snow globe. The peace saturating this idyllic slice of time is beautiful beyond description.

Absently, I begin to hum a very old song, fitting for this occasion. The last words of the chorus strike me as profoundly appropriate: _heavenly peace._

Bella then lifts her head from the curve of my shoulder, pressing her lips to the edge of my jaw. "Merry Christmas, Edward," she whispers softly.

I dip my chin to give her a gentle, virtuous kiss, and sigh in return, "Merry Christmas, love."

And we linger in the tranquil embrace of this silent, holy night as the snow continues to fall.

------------

**Author's Notes:** Portions of the dialogue are cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 649-664.

The Christmas carols included in this chapter are _God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen_, _Deck the Halls_, and _Silent Night._

I added my own description of the bracelet Jacob gives to Renesmee, and after looking at some examples of Native American jewelry I thought it would be beautiful if some sort of semi-precious stone were woven into its design.

When I found out that there is an actual stone called howlite, I squealed with glee because it fit so perfectly.

The Romanian proverb Stefan quotes to Edward translates as "Don't measure others with your own hand." Its basic meaning is that some people may have reasons unknown to you for doing certain things.


	17. Deadline

**Chapter Notes:** I am deeply sorry for keeping everyone waiting, but am grateful for your patience.

This chapter sets the stage for the final act, and I also wanted to make it into a sort of 'last days' composition. Edward and the Cullens have prepared to confront the Volturi, and have hope that a peaceful solution can be found…but the odds are slim, at best. Hope is still present, though. To quote an earlier chapter, sometimes it's all you have left.

This chapter, to me, feels like a symphony. There is a quiet _prelude_, a soaring, emotional _adagio,_ a reflective _intermezzo_, and a tense, repetitive _presto_ building into a crescendo.

I realize that some of you may have no musical knowledge whatsoever, so I will simply say that I tried to portray every conceivable emotion in this chapter. Even I myself am left feeling somewhat breathless. But I leave the final verdict to each of you.

Enjoy.

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With the dawn comes the solemn heaviness of reality.

After a significant amount of coaxing on my part, Bella agrees to run with me to the cottage, rather than waiting until I return with an armful of clothing. Truthfully, she and I both know that I could be there and back in less than five minutes, but that is too long a time to be separated from each other, and so we streak through the forest like a pair of white ghosts as the sky begins to lighten.

A thin column of smoke rises from the chimney of our little home, and the slow cadence of a much larger heart resounds beneath the familiar rapid thrum of Renesmee's pulse, though the discordant noise of snoring nearly drowns out all other sounds.

Bella freezes in place on the stone pathway to the front door, staring up at me in utter mortification. "Jake's here?" she squeaks.

I squeeze her hand, tugging her closer, and she scuttles behind me, trying to shield her body with my own. Chuckling, I whisper, "He's asleep, love." I grasp the door handle and push my thumb down on the catch. It opens with a faint click, and Bella twitches like a startled doe, her free hand clutching my shoulder as she follows me step for step into the cottage.

Her quick breaths caress the nape of my neck, and the hairs' breadth of space between her skin and mine electrifies every nerve in my body, making me acutely aware that all I need to do is turn around…

The spectacle on the loveseat swiftly replaces the growing lust with severe displeasure.

Jacob is sprawled haphazardly on the piece of furniture that is three times too small for his frame, his head lolling far to one side and his mouth hanging slightly open as he continues to emit snuffling snores that seem to fill the entire house.

Despite the fact that his long legs are thrown akimbo over the armrest and one side of the loveseat, his thick arms are wrapped protectively around a perfect bronze-haired child slumbering against him, her ivory skin in contrast with his russet coloring.

Renesmee's flushed cheek is pillowed on his warm chest, her curls splayed across her shoulder and his like a decorative blanket, and the faint, peaceful smile on her face keeps me from yanking her out of his arms. But I cannot prevent the muscles in my body from tensing or my teeth from snapping together in annoyance.

Sensing the change in my demeanor, Bella releases her grip on me and edges forward. My gaze flicks sideways to watch her reaction.

Amber eyes blink once at the sleeping pair, and I look on in muted amazement as Bella's expression softens into a mixture of satisfaction and wistfulness, a tiny smile that is almost a mirror image of the one gracing our daughter's face on her lips.

Humbled by her unexpected and steadfast approval of their relationship, I shift my attention to Jacob once again, regarding him not as an obstacle to overcome, but as a constant in Renesmee's life. I have never and will never doubt his devotion to the little girl, and ultimately to our family – and Renesmee is as connected to him as he is to her, I see that now.

In light of the present situation, how can I begrudge either of them the need for closeness?

A low sigh escapes from the woman at my side, and then she slips silently into the hallway, moving towards our bedroom. Aching need begins to claw its way throughout my body as soon as she is out of my sight. I race down the hall, pulling the door shut in my wake, and sweep Bella literally off her feet before she reaches the closet.

She gasps in surprise – the sound is swallowed by my mouth covering hers – and we collapse unceremoniously onto the bed. My lips move to her throat, following the delicate curve of her jaw, and she tilts her head back, murmuring huskily, "You're insatiable."

"Well," I reply against her floral-scented skin, "it_ is_ a holiday, after all. Doesn't that constitute a little recreation?"

Her fingers twist into my hair as I press a kiss into the hollow at the base of her throat. "Christmas is technically over, Edward," she contradicts, but there is no force behind her words, and she exhales sharply when I move downward, brushing my mouth over her breastbone.

"Today is a holiday as well." Following an invisible line down her body, I proceed to emblazon the contours of her abdomen with kisses. "It originated as a holiday for those of greater means to give boxes of food, fruit, clothing or money to their servants as an expression of gratitude for their work during the year."

I circle her navel with my lips; she moans quietly, tugging on my scalp, but I will not surrender so easily this time, and resume my rather inane explanation. "That's how this day received its name: Boxing Day. It's still widely celebrated in Canada and countries in Europe, and many families gather to play games or –"

"Edward?"

I lift my chin fractionally. Bella stares into my eyes with fierce intensity, her hooded gaze smoldering. Without granting me any time to recover, she slithers downward on the mattress and captures my face between her palms, our noses touching as she orders, "Shut up." And she ensures my compliance with a kiss that steals away the air from my lungs.

I cannot catch my breath for the remainder of the morning.

When Renesmee's heartbeat quickens and Jacob's sleep-fogged mind registers his grumbling stomach, I regretfully release Bella from my arms and leave our bed before the desire subdues all rational thought, heading into the closet to get dressed. She emulates my movements a few seconds later and dons her own clothing, running a brush hastily through her tousled locks.

Pausing at the door, I hold out my hand to her. She fits her slender palm in mine, and together we leave our room, our haven, to meet the day – another swing of the pendulum counting down to our family's time of judgment.

Jacob halts in mid-stretch while we round the corner to the living room, his mouth opened in a yawn that has turned into an 'o' of surprise. The little cherub balanced on top of the armrest near his feet lets out a gasp of delight and launches herself into her mother's arms, broadcasting through her shared thoughts that she is glad we're home and she missed us last night. Bella cuddles her close and kisses her cheeks in response.

"When did you guys get back?" Jacob asks in a casual tone, but his black-brown eyes are wary.

I answer him in the same relaxed manner, "Just before dawn."

He and I hold stares for a moment as Jacob tries to gauge my reaction to the sleeping arrangements he had decided on for Renesmee, and I stand beside the fireplace calmly, my irritation long since departed.

His taut shoulders sag a bit in relief, and he springs to his feet with a grin, remarking, "Are you heading up to command central? I'll come with."

Our small entourage travels at human pace through the waking forest. A thin, sparkling layer of snow carpets the ground, and the rolling violet-gray clouds above are harbingers of more precipitation.

Jacob shivers, though it is not from the cold, and cocks his head, the movement distinctly wolf-like. _It's too quiet, _he thinks cautiously. _Like something spooked all the animals. _He glances up at the sky, frowning. _There's a storm coming. A big one._

I nod once in acquiescence, my gaze drifting sideways as a gust of frigid wind whistles through the bare trees. Renesmee curls into her mother's body, her molten bronze ringlets lashing against her face, and Bella tightens her arms around the little girl, a look of grim determination hardening her features that I think has little to do with the weather.

That suspicion is confirmed when we approach the house minutes later. Bella scans the oddly vacant meadow with keen red-orange eyes, asking, "Where is everyone?"

Jacob echoes her question mentally, as does Renesmee, and in near-perfect unison all three turn to me in expectation. Smiling faintly, I listen for a moment, tuning into the flow of thoughts much like adjusting the dial on a radio, and find an answer. "Most have gone hunting. Emmett and Rosalie left earlier with all the Denalis, but Carlisle and Esme decided to wait for us. A few of the others are inside – some are out back."

"Zafrina?" Bella insists, the resolve in her expression becoming more defined with each passing second.

"She's by the river with Senna." Catching the wilder tenor of the Amazon vampire's psyche, I surmise quietly, "I believe she is waiting for you."

In mild surprise, I watch with raised brows as Bella sets Renesmee on her feet and marches toward the west side of the house, disappearing around the far corner. Jacob shakes his head indulgently, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "One-track mind," he says with a lopsided smirk. "Some things never change." He chuckles under his breath and then takes Renesmee's hand, leading her to the front steps as he announces, "I'm starved. I hope your Grandma remembered to go grocery shopping this week, Ness." They enter the doorway, leaving me to either catch up or to discover what has my wife so intent on practicing her shield.

After a brief flash of hesitation, I decide on the former and bound up the porch stairs, slipping inside before the door has a chance to close. Bella needs as few distractions as possible in order to master her gift, and I have no desire to break her concentration – or her blossoming self-confidence – with my presence.

Of course, while she remains outside for most of the day, I am left a bit floundering.

My daughter inadvertently rescues me from a purposeless afternoon by leaving Jacob to his lunch preparations and crawling into my lap. In her tiny hands she clutches one of Esme's sketchpads and a box of crayons. Setting the pad neatly on her outstretched legs, Renesmee positions the flipped open box beside my right hip and touches my forearm as she peruses her color choices with the same intensity of any artist.

I see in her mind that she wants to draw a picture of our family, so I pluck a pale almond crayon from the box and offer it to her, suggesting, "Why don't you start with Momma?"

She twists around to beam up at me and then sets herself to the task at hand. I can tell from the way she holds the crayon that she has been paying attention to Esme – and she may possess the creative talent naturally, I speculate to myself as she outlines an amazingly proportionate version of Bella on the paper.

"What color should we make her hair?" I say to the little girl, though my eyes have already picked out the shade that most closely resembles the rich brown of Bella's silken tresses.

Renesmee ponders for a moment, studying her options, and then selects that precise color, adding a long mass of chocolate hair to the drawn figure.

A vibrant blue catches my eye, and immediately I pull it from the box, the crystalline memory of cream-and-roses skin swathed in indigo chiffon dancing through my head. "Why don't you give her this color shirt?"

We go on in this fashion – Renesmee creating small images of each member of our family and me offering suggestions about which colors to use – until it is time for the finishing touches. Very carefully, she adds facial features to every face, beginning with the black-haired pixie at the far end of the paper.

Unlike the last time she saw her aunt, Renesmee draws a wide smile on Alice's face, making her eyes a metallic gold that imitates the sparkle that always seems to light up her entire countenance.

As she moves on to Jasper, I brush my thumb along the edge of my sister's smiling figure, wishing that I could know where she is, if she is safe, if we'll ever see her or my brother again…

A small hand pats my arm impatiently, and I awaken from my somber reverie. Renesmee has finished with every face except for her mother's. She pictures Bella in her mind, emphasizing the vivid scarlet-amber hue of her eyes, and wonders if she should make them that color in the illustration, or if they should be the same as mine.

"They'll be gold soon, sweetheart," I remind her softly. "Why don't you make them that color in your picture so you can see how pretty Momma will look."

Thinking that a grand idea, the little girl promptly wields the gold crayon and colors in Bella's eyes, her sense of pride swelling as she surveys her finished product. No detail has been overlooked. Even the representation of herself has a yellow-gold cord around her neck, with a tiny circle dangling beneath her throat.

"A masterpiece," I assure her, kissing the top of her curly head. The brilliance of her smile rivals the radiant glow of the sun. "But an artist should always sign her work," I remark, thoughtful.

The upturned corners of her mouth droop a little. "I don't know how," she admits aloud sadly. Renesmee understands letters and the written word, but has yet to learn how to form them with her own hand.

"I'll help you." Enclosing her small hand with mine, I guide her crayon across the bottom of the paper, explaining as we go, "This is R, then E, then N…E – S – M – E – E. See? Renesmee."

For good measure, we add her last name as well, and then I encourage her to show her masterpiece to Esme and Carlisle. Their awed exclamations ring joyfully through the lower part of the house, and I laugh quietly when Esme declares that she has to find a frame for the picture, wasting no time as she whisks Renesmee upstairs to her studio.

Getting up from the sofa, I glance outside the window panel – and do a double take in surprise. Twilight has descended upon the world, bathing the silvery forest in faded tones of blue. Flecks of white float down from the navy-colored sky while I cross to the windows, and the wavering reflection of my father appears in the glass beside my left shoulder. "The snowfall is predicted to be intermittent," he comments in a calm voice, "but significant accumulation is expected by the end of the week." He waits a beat, and then asks, "How much time do we have?"

Reluctant to relive the unforgiving future I had witnessed with Alice but knowing that there is no other alternative, I stare past the frosted glass and summon the memory. "The snow is thick on the ground in the vision," I reply dully. "Enough to cover the grass in the field." Blackness swallows the rest of the vision before I have to experience the coming horror of dark-cloaked figures slithering through the trees, and I meet Carlisle's topaz gaze in the window. "Two, maybe three days, at most. I can't narrow it down any further than that."

He fingers his chin pensively. Normally, this would seem like a one-sided conversation to anyone else listening in, but Carlisle is extending the courtesy of knowledge to all our guests by speaking aloud. "Perhaps…" he begins in slow deliberation, "…one more day. Then we will head for the clearing." I incline my head in agreement.

The back door suddenly bursts open in a swirl of snowflakes and Bella flits inside, her face shining with a strange combination of triumph and frustration. Zafrina and Senna trail after her like twin shadows, their burgundy eyes darting in every direction, constantly monitoring their surroundings.

I turn to face them, grinning in welcome at Bella, and say, "Practice was a success?"

"Four minutes," she proclaims with a hint of satisfaction, but her full lips twist into a pout. "That's the longest I can hold my shield around someone else."

"That's wonderful, Bella!" Carlisle congratulates. "Well done!"

I add my own words of praise. "Your progress is astounding, love, truly."

"But that's not enough time, is it?" she counters worriedly. "I mean, I know you –_ we_ – are fast, but fast enough to beat the Volturi in _four minutes?_ And I can't even do that every time; once I could only hold it for a minute and a half. What if that happens during the fight?"

I had started walking over to her the instant she began to ramble, and as she pauses to draw in a necessary breath in order to keep talking, I fold her into my arms tenderly. "I don't think I can trust myself enough to not let you and everyone else down," she confesses, her voice small and forlorn.

Before I can speak any consolation to ease her fears, a throaty alto growls, "Self-doubt is your greatest enemy, young one." Zafrina stalks over to us like a jaguar, and though her expression is fierce, her gaze transmits a feeling of deep camaraderie. Bella swings her head to the side as the Amazon vampire chides, "Your thoughts of inferiority are uncalled for. In all my years I have never encountered a newborn with such control, such inner strength. It burns like a flame within you. You must learn how to let it out."

"What if I can't?" Bella mumbles timidly.

"You will." Zafrina's statement is filled with the utmost certainty. Even I find it impossible to distrust her words. "It will happen when you least expect it."

Rolling her eyes, Bella drops her chin onto my chest, muttering in annoyance, "Well,_ that's_ convenient."

Her mood improves a bit when Renesmee comes skipping down the stairs with Esme in tow, a dark wood picture frame in my mother's slim hands. Everyone looks at the pair as Esme announces proudly, "May I present, the first original work of Miss Renesmee Cullen." She flips the frame over in a grandiose manner. Renesmee's drawing of our family has been mounted onto a matte of gold-brushed ivory paper, beautifully striking against the mahogany wood of the frame.

The room bursts into applause. Bella pulls away from me and kneels down in front of our daughter, enfolding her in a warm hug. "It's just beautiful, sweetheart. I love it." She withdraws slightly after a moment, her broad grin mimicking Renesmee's gleaming smile, and proposes, "Should we take it home and hang it up on the wall?" The little sprite hops up and down in delight, clapping her tiny hands, and laughter echoes pleasantly throughout the massive room.

In a quarter of an hour, the three of us are back at the cottage, trying to decide on the perfect place to display Renesmee's art. By general consensus, the picture is awarded a place of honor above the fireplace mantle, and we sit together on the loveseat admiring it until the little girl lapses into slumber, a contented glow on her blushing face.

With the sunrise, Bella and I are of the same mind that this day needs to be as trouble-free as possible, for our lives are on the brink of irreversible change and our daughter deserves a full twenty-four hours of a semblance of normality.

The peacefulness I had felt during our impromptu art class yesterday has left me longing for more, and Renesmee must share that notion, for she asks if we could draw another picture today while Bella is outside practicing as we make our way to the house.

"I think your Momma is planning on taking the day off, Nessie," I tell her in a conspiratorial murmur. Bella glances at me, startled, but it fades quickly from her expression in the blinding light of Renesmee's smile. I reach for Bella's hand, losing myself in her amber eyes even as I speak to our daughter. "We'll have to think of something that we can do together."

We travel the rest of the distance in comfortable silence, and while I hold the front door open for my two angels, Bella softly voices an idea. "We could look for a photo to put inside Renesmee's locket."

Bobbing her small head in agreement, the little girl touches our clasped hands to convey her enthusiasm at this idea, which earns her a kiss on each cheek simultaneously.

"Then it's decided," I reply, savoring each second in their company, and start to lead them upstairs.

On the second floor landing, I veer off to the right – into Esme's studio. Bella scoops Renesmee into her arms and tiptoes behind me cautiously, as though my mother would chastise her for entering this room without permission when nothing could be further from the truth.

"Esme stores all our family photos in here," I explain while opening a tall closet door in the far left corner of the room.

Bella gapes at the rectangular boxes stacked from floor to ceiling in neat color-coordinated columns. "I guess you would have a lot," she murmurs almost to herself, and I chuckle once.

"Most of them are mine," I inform her, gesturing to the abundance of ocher boxes taking up nearly a third of the storage area, "because I've been with Carlisle and Esme the longest."

Bella's face mirrors her obvious interest, so I continue on, pointing to the rows of crimson boxes next in line. "Those are Rose's and Emmett's." Then I motion with my head to the smaller stack of lilac-colored containers. "And those belong to Alice and Jasper. Esme keeps hers and Carlisle's in albums on the bookshelf in their bedroom."

Stepping a little further into the closet, I pull the ocher box on top of a two-foot tall column and read the date printed on a scrap of paper pasted to the front. "This should be the most recent," I say, backing away in order to close the door.

A tiny, sneaker-clad foot suddenly slides out to stop the door. I look at Bella in confusion. Her eyes are twinkling with curiosity, affection, and resolve. "Some day," she vows quietly, "you and I are going to go through every one of those boxes."

Warmth surges within my chest, and I smile, lifting my free hand to tuck her hair behind an ear. "Nothing would please me more," I return in a sincere, adoring voice, and she lowers her eyelashes in shy pleasure. Renesmee stretches out her eager fingers towards the box, pulling us both from the brief interlude, and I then lead the way to my old room, the closet door clicking shut in our wake.

We settle onto the gold coverlet draping the wrought-iron bed, forming a circle around the box of memories, and I remove the lid, dropping it behind me on the floor. Bella blinks at the contents in awed respect. "Esme really does have some incredible organizational skills," she remarks while eyeing the labeled piles of photographs, grouped by month and year in chronological order.

My mother's chiming giggle drifts up the staircase. "Decades of practice," she tells Bella, and they share a soft bout of mirth.

Pawing through the stacks, I locate the one dated September of this year and pull it out. "Let's see what we have in here…"

Bella, apparently, has other plans. She begins taking out one pile after another, inquiring absently, "How far back does this box go?"

My hand reaches inside the box and unearths the bottom-most stack, holding it out to her. "To last May," I reply quietly, my eyes locked on her heart-shaped face.

In silence, she takes the photos from my grasp and lifts the top one from the group, turning it over. The glossy image of Bella in her deep blue prom dress and me dressed in a black tuxedo, her slightly embarrassed smile focused on the camera while I gazed at her with unabashed adoration gleams faintly in the soft light filtering through the windows.

After a moment, Bella murmurs in wondering realization, her attention fixed on the photo in her hands, "I don't think I've ever seen these pictures before."

"A selfish oversight on my part," I acknowledge guiltily. Her stare flicks upward to meet mine, her forehead creased a little in puzzlement. With an open palm, I indicate the box's strewn contents on the bedspread, explaining, "Out of all the many boxes of photographs – snapshots of my decades of existence even from when I was still human – this is the only one that matters to me."

Gently, I raise my hand to Bella's cheek, brushing the backs of my fingers along the curve of her jaw to the soft point of her chin. "Because when you lit up the sky and crashed into my world…" My thumb lightly strokes the swell of her lower lip, back and forth, and her breath tickles my skin. "…that is when my life truly began. The only life worth remembering," I finish in a low, passionate whisper, mesmerized by the smoldering embers within her red-gold eyes.

Unencumbered by the attentive stare of our daughter, we lean towards one another and share a tender, electric kiss, its sweetness piercing my still heart with profound emotion. It is as if this moment – reminiscing about the start of our impossible love in the presence of the child I never dreamed we could have – has culminated our entire relationship thus far. We have reached a milestone on the journey to eternity, and whether this will mark our last of such moments on earth is unknown, but I believe – I _believe_ – that it will not be the end for us.

We slowly break apart, eyelids fluttering and breathing heavy, and as soon as there is an iota of space between our bodies, Renesmee deposits herself squarely in her mother's lap, waving a handful of photographs in the air like a banner. The little girl's impatience has more to do with our appointed task rather than her parent's display of affection, and I give Bella a crooked grin. "Back to business, then." She laughs in response.

Beginning with the stack I had originally removed from the box, the three of us look through the collection of images portraying Renesmee's rapid growth rate, hoping to find the perfect picture to place inside her locket. But by mid-afternoon, Bella's attention strays, and she sifts through the piles she had set aside earlier, a frown steadily forming on her delicate features as she scans the photos for a certain event, without success.

Not wishing to assume, though I have a fairly valid guess as to what she may be looking for, I ask her softly over the top of our daughter's curly-haired head, "What is it, love?"

"Edward," she replies in confusion, still examining the snapshots littering the bedspread, "where are our wedding pictures?"

It is a testament to the resolution I have developed in regard to my sister's departure that I can answer her honestly, my tone devoid of animosity, "Alice and Esme were working on a scrapbook to give to us for Christmas. Even_ I_ haven't seen most of the pictures – except in their thoughts. But if you want," I offer, "I could see if I can locate the duplicates in Alice's room –"

"No!" Bella cuts me off, alarmed. I blink at her, momentarily taken aback, and Renesmee cranes her head far to one side to see her mother's face. "No, I mean…" Flustered, Bella attempts to calm down before clarifying, "You don't have to do that. I was just curious." Her slender fingers toy with the hem of the golden coverlet and she drops her eyes, her lips pursed in chagrin.

Perplexed as always by the inexplicable workings of her mind, I study her bent head, certain that something has occurred to her that she is hesitating to address – which usually means that she wants to make a request. Stubborn and self-reliant, my Bella has a distinct aversion to asking for favors, though such an inclination should be behind us now. Everything that I own is legally hers as well, and she is more than welcome to exercise a little authority.

Yet as I open my mouth to remind her of this, she murmurs in an almost inaudible voice, "I wonder if maybe I could call Renée and wish her a Merry Christmas." She pinches a bump in the fabric of the coverlet to punctuate her statement.

And then it clicks. The wedding pictures, her mother, and her constant desire to assuage any feelings of ostracism between her and Renée. Always thinking of the needs of others.

Gazing at her fondly, I put my hand on hers, and weave our fingers together to keep her from pulling apart the bedspread. Her eyes dart upward after a few seconds, and then I let her know in a consoling manner, "Alice sent the entire album to Renée while we were on Isle Esme." My lips quirk into a wry grin as I add, "If the profusely exuberant commentary Alice received on her voice mail is any indication, I would say that your mother was extremely grateful."

Bella's shoulders relax as though an enormous weight has been lifted from her, and she sighs deeply. "Good." Looking down at our joined hands, she smoothes the pad of her thumb over my knuckles while her other palm caresses Renesmee's soft bronze hair. "That's good," she says wistfully, a faint smile ghosting across her face.

Quite suddenly, she holds up a photograph that had been resting on her knee and remarks in a brighter tone, "What about this one?"

For the better part of two hours, we debate over the final choices, deadlocked in a decision as each of us prefers a different picture. I have never been more thrilled to participate in a dispute over something as trivial as a photograph for my daughter's locket. The simple domesticity of this moment is a thing of beauty.

As Renesmee is distracted by the return of Emmett, Rosalie, and the Denali family outside the windows, Bella gracefully unfolds her legs and stands, pointing with her index finger at the picture closest to her previous spot. "That one," she declares, and then leans over, pressing a feather-light kiss to my cheek. "I'll be back." Before I can turn to her, she slips out the door, her footsteps whisper-soft as they echo down the stairs, through the front door, and vanish into the muted quiet of the forest.

Determined not to speculate on Bella's peculiar actions, I call Renesmee back to the bed and try to smother my wild, tumultuous thoughts by wheedling the little girl. "Are you sure you won't change your mind, Nessie? Your mother really likes this one, and my favorite is very nice, too…" A small triangle of white in the corner of my eye catches my attention. Looping an arm around Renesmee, I pick up the now empty storage box, noticing that one photo seems to have been wedged inside the bottom flap – almost as if it had been shoved in between the lid.

Carefully, I pull it out, and then I see the initials printed in black ink on the top left corner: A.C.

This picture belongs to Alice. She must have taken it.

So why would it have been crammed into one of my boxes?

Very slowly, a turbulent swirl of emotions coursing through me, I turn over the photograph.

Standing beneath the yellow-gold canopy of autumn leaves aglow in the sunshine, I lean against the trunk of an ancient cedar with my arms wrapped around Bella's waist, my cheek nestled into her hair as I grin, ridiculously jubilant, at the camera.

Bella rests trustingly in my embrace, as she always has, her dark locks framing her heart-shaped face while the radiance of her smile shines as brilliantly as a star. And in her arms, Renesmee beams with incandescent happiness, the fiery gleam of her curls a perfect compliment to the vivid seasonal colors in the background.

It is a family photo the likes of which I have never seen, much less been a part of in my century of existence. There is no undercurrent of enmity or indifference, no shadows darkening the hidden places behind the smiles, but an aura of love and belonging that permeates the image more so than the golden light of the sun. I find myself wishing for just an instant that I could climb inside the photo – relive the moment and the sheer joy that seemed to dominate most of our days, and to reclaim some of the innocence that was stolen from my family.

While I gaze transfixed at the picture in my hands, Renesmee scrambles across the bed and peers inquisitively around my arm, and the mixture of shock and delight that ripples through her mind finally pulls my attention from the photograph. Raising my eyebrows, I ask my daughter with a crooked smile, "Have you changed your mind?"

She jumps up and down on her knees in excitement. _This one, Daddy!_ she shouts inwardly.

We head back to Esme's studio to use the drawing table in the center of the room. With the locket as a template, I trim the photo into a circular shape that fits all our faces perfectly, and since she cannot bear to take it off, Renesmee stays motionless as I slip the picture into place inside her locket. "All done," I tell her, closing the latch and laying the pendant gently over her breastbone.

She throws her tiny arms around my neck, squeezing with all her strength, and I cuddle her small form into my chest, lifting her off the tabletop. Her gratitude does not arise in words, but she knows that I can understand what she is unable to express clearly.

I kiss her flushed, burning-soft cheek, and murmur, "Anytime. I love you, my little love."

A flicker of confusion pierces her rosy thoughts, and she pulls away a little to see my face, her brown eyes quizzical. Bella appears in her mind, accompanied by my own voice calling her 'love', and Renesmee thinks uncertainly, her head tipped to one side, _I thought Momma was your love._

"She is," I assure her, still smiling. "But I love you both. So Momma is 'love', and you're 'little love'."

Tremendously pleased by this announcement, Renesmee gifts me with her dazzling smile.

The front door opens an instant later and, sensing that it must be Bella because I do not hear any new voices adding to the steady stream of thoughts in the back of my head, I keep Renesmee in my arms and walk towards the staircase.

A slender figure sheathed in an ivory trench coat waits on the landing. Bella's lustrous brown hair is arranged in loose curls and pulled away from her face, displaying the pair of one-carat diamond earrings that I had bought for her two summers ago – the same pair that she refused to wear because I had still been foolish enough to tell her what they had cost when she asked. I had smuggled them into the pitifully sparse jewelry box in her bedroom that same night but, true to her word, she never touched them or behaved as if they even existed. Until now.

My eyes dart swiftly down her body as I descend the steps, noting the pale stockings cloaking her alabaster legs, the dainty heeled shoes wrapped around her feet and the creamy leather clutch tucked under her left arm, and then flash back up to read her expression. She smiles – a soft curving of her full lips reserved only for me – but the flat brown contacts concealing the still unnatural shade of her irises veil her intentions from my perception.

A thousand questions burst like fireworks within my skull, coating my tongue, demanding to be voiced…but I silence them all with the memory of my promise, and with Bella's own words – spoken on the night when all my fortified walls crumbled, exposing my bared heart to the warmth of her liquid-dark eyes. _"It doesn't matter."_

Marshalling my features into a benign, composed expression, though every cell in my body shrieks to draw Bella into my arms and never let go, I say casually, "Headed out?"

Renesmee squirms, restless and curious, against me, and I selfishly tighten my hold. I will not be parted from both of them tonight.

In the same easy tone, Bella replies, "Yes, a few last-minute things…" She digs a set of keys out of her coat pocket, and I recognize the shape of the largest silver one. And here I thought_ I_ was the only one partial to my Volvo.

My mouth slants into a lopsided smile. No matter what she is hiding from me, it will never change the fact that the only reason I exist is for her. "Hurry back to me," I bid her lovingly.

She moves forward, her gaze locked with mine, and for a brief second the veils part within her eyes, showing the luminous glow of her feelings. "Always," she returns, and raises herself up on her tiptoes for a kiss, which I am all too willing to bestow.

With equal reluctance, we drift apart, and Bella brushes her lips on Renesmee's forehead before marching down the hallway to the back door, tossing one last smile over a shoulder before the portal closes behind her.

Renesmee and I remain at the base of the stairs, motionless and silent, while the low purr of the Volvo races down the long drive to the highway.

Less than five minutes later, Mary wanders inside to ask to borrow a vehicle. Rosalie has finally gotten off her high horse in regard to her convertible, so I offer the nomad the keys to the BMW. Once she drives away, a few of the others make requests for transportation, as well. Soon, every car except Emmett's Jeep and my Vanquish has vacated the garage.

In the meantime, Jacob collects Renesmee from me and encourages the little girl to go on a quick hunt with him – which she adamantly declines, much to my relief. Stumped, he asks her what she would like to do instead.

To my amazement, she minces across the room to retrieve a book from the shelves on the far side, and then makes her way over to me. Dark eyes shining, Renesmee grasps my hand with her tiny one and heaves, urging me to follow. Bemused, I trail behind her to the sofa, whereupon she indicates that I should sit beside Jacob, who is watching this entire scenario with undisguised fascination.

Once I am settled, the little girl clambers into my lap and hands me the book. Glancing at the title, I remark with a chuckle, "I see you've tired of poetry." She nods emphatically, her face bright in anticipation. "Shall I read to you?" I ask, teasing. Her lower lip juts out in a pout that she obviously learned from her mother and she huffs, crossing her arms over her middle.

I suppress a laugh and kiss the top of her head. "All right." There is a wide satin ribbon marking a page, so I open to that place, recognizing the text immediately as one of Bella's favorite Shakespeare plays. Softly, I begin to read, " _'How now, spirit! Whither wander you?' '__Over hill, over dale, Thorough bush, thorough brier, Over park, over pale, Thorough flood, thorough fire, I do wander everywhere, Swifter than the moon's sphere; And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green.__' _"

Renesmee listens raptly, her highly developed mind cataloguing each word into memory…but her body is still that of a half-human, and it requires sleep.

She starts to doze when Demetrius and Lysander prepare to fight for Helena's love, and her head falls back onto my chest, her breathing slow and deep as Puck begins to lead the two combatants astray. I gently lay the ribbon over the page and close the book, moving as little as possible. The world outside the windows has already darkened to wintry, blue-black night, and it occurs to me rather belatedly that I have no idea when Bella plans to return home.

Before I can dwell on that slightly distressing fact, Jacob suddenly speaks up, his voice low but his thoughts baffled and chaotic, "So…Puck accidentally gave the love potion to both Demetrius and Lysander, and now they're fighting over the same woman again, only it's a different woman than before. And Titania thinks she's in love with a guy who looks like a donkey." He blows out a long breath through his lips. "This story is seriously screwed up."

"You were paying better attention than I thought," I say, impressed. Jacob strikes me as the kind of man who would be more inclined to pick up an issue of _American Iron_ than Shakespeare, if he bothered to read at all.

He shrugs, muttering nonchalantly, "It's not like I have anything better to do. And I gotta admit, it is pretty interesting – though I only understood about half of what everybody was saying." His expression contorts into a pained grimace.

As his mind attempts to reorganize, a question surfaces, and I answer out of habit. "It turns out all right in the end. Everyone goes back to who they're meant to be with, and there's a wedding and feasting and revelry…"

"Your basic happily ever after," Jacob inserts in a mildly bored tone, but I detect the underlying satisfaction in his words.

"Yes," I agree quietly. "Happily ever after."

Silence blankets the room for a moment, and then Jacob's black-brown eyes shift to my face as he muses internally, _Never thought I'd find myself wishing that you and Bella could have a happily ever after, but I do. Really._

I smile faintly. "Thank you, Jacob. I wish that all of us could achieve some measure of happiness."

We both ignore the 'but' floating on the edge of my statement.

I carefully rearrange Renesmee's limp form in my arms and stand upright, her head tucked under my chin. "I'm going to take her home. She should already be in bed."

"Yeah." Jacob rises as well, stretching his long arms high above his head and yawning. With fond tenderness, his gaze lingers on the little girl's peaceful features as he murmurs, "She needs the rest." The fingers on his hand closest to Renesmee twitch, like he wants to brush the stray curl from her forehead but is unsure if such an action would be acceptable.

"So do you," I tell him pointedly. By my recollection, he has not had a decent night's sleep in almost two weeks, and the darkening circles under his eyes are a telltale sign of his exhaustion.

"Nah," he dismisses with a snort, "I'm fine. 'Sides, I said I'd check in with the pack tonight." He walks with me to the front door, remarking under his breath, "I think they're all getting a little stir-crazy, waiting for something to happen."

Without thinking, I mumble to myself, "They won't have to wait much longer."

Jacob starts, his countenance flipping from casually laid-back to intensely focused in a heartbeat. "What do you mean?" he demands.

Sighing, I put my hand on the doorknob and turn, preparing to head outside. I had not intended to let that cryptic hint slip out – at least not until Carlisle and I had put together a few more details in regard to the wolves' position in our defensive line. Bella's absence keeps me from concentrating wholly on the task at hand. In an attempt to diffuse the tension, I offer in reassurance, "I'll explain in the morning," and pull open the door.

A large red-brown hand shoots out and holds it shut. I raise my eyes calmly to Jacob's suddenly fierce expression. "You'll explain _now,"_ he growls.

Old, old instincts bristle within me, and my muscles constrict, my spine threatening to curve my body into a crouch as my nostrils flare, filling with the pungent odor of an age-old enemy to my kind.

Then the tiny, infinitely precious child cradled against me moans in her sleep – and the soft noise breaks us both from the power of our ingrained hostility.

Jacob drops his hand from the door as though scalded, his face flushing with shame. _What the_ hell_ is the matter with you, Jake?! _he berates himself. _This is your family!_

It is the first time he has ever referred to me as his family, and the admission pleases me more than I would have thought possible.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he forces himself to meet my gaze and says humbly, "I'm sorry, Edward."

Compassion colors my tone as I absolve him of guilt, replying, "It's all right, Jake." I lift my free hand from the doorknob and lay it on his shoulder. He does not even flinch; rather, he seems grateful for the gesture. "You're right. I owe it to you and the wolves to keep you informed on the situation. I'm just a bit…distracted now," I add, looking aside.

He understands at once. "Where_ is_ Bella, anyway?" he asks, quirking a black eyebrow.

"She had some errands to run." My voice sounds relatively mild. "She should be back soon," I finish, willing that statement to be true.

"Sure, sure." He waves a hand as he speaks – his usual form of nonchalance. "I'm gonna bail." He slips around me and opens the door, crossing onto the porch, and then he turns, wagging a finger. "But I expect you to tell all first thing tomorrow morning," he orders, grinning widely.

I touch two fingers to my forehead in a mock-salute.

He sprints across the meadow toward the snowy trees, pulling off his shirt as he runs.

I leave the house in the same fashion, looping to the north instead of following Jacob's path eastward, and leap over the frozen river, eager for the comfortable familiarity of the cottage.

Soon, Renesmee is tucked in her crib, and I consume minutes by building a fire in the hearth, feeding the flames with kindling until the blaze is crackling merrily. Afterward, I locate one of Bella's old books from the tall shelf and stretch out on the loveseat. The worn pages of _The Collected Works of Jane Austen_ exude the intoxicating fragrance of rain-soaked freesia, and though I try to absorb myself in a story, my mind is constantly drawn back to Bella.

Though it has only been a few hours, the gnawing hunger in the pit of my stomach refuses to dispel, its intensity building as vivid sensations awake along my nerve endings – like every cell in my body can remember the echoes of her caresses, the inviting silkiness of her skin, the addictive taste of her kisses…

I rake a hand through my tousled hair, sucking in a deep breath. I will literally drive myself insane if I continue to dwell on thoughts of my wife.

The door unexpectedly swings open, and my salvation arrives as a snowbound angel, crystalline flakes of white adorning her dark, windswept locks.

Bella gives me a weary but genuine smile as she closes the door and sets her clutch on the straight-backed chair near the threshold. "Welcome home," I greet her warmly. Her scent begins to fill the room like the richest perfume, battling for dominance over the aroma of wood smoke and clinging traces of wolf, and I inhale greedily.

Then she removes her coat, and I forget about breathing altogether.

A strapless, knee-length dress of ruched oyster satin, cinched at the waist by a cream-colored ribbon, fits over her soft curves as though it was made for her. Her alabaster skin glows a dim topaz in the firelight and streaks of burning gold ignite in her chestnut hair.

"You look stunning," I murmur in a husky voice, my stare roving over each line of her frame repetitively, drinking in every detail.

Some small part of my brain wonders why Bella, who is content in jeans and a cotton shirt, is wearing such an elegant and undeniably costly garment for 'a few last-minute things', but I dismiss the notion as she bends down to undo the small buckles on her shoes.

"These things still annoy the crap out of me," she grumbles, kicking the expensive heels with impeccable aim into a corner. Chuckling, I toss the book aside and open my arms for her. She swoops onto me, laying her body over mine, and nuzzles her face into my collarbone, the tip of her nose grazing my throat as she breathes in my scent.

I gently push her hair to the side and kiss the hollow beneath her ear. "I seem to recall you telling me that you were never going to wear these earrings," I remind her, the words hushed as I nibble her lobe delicately with my lips.

"It was the only pair that matched my dress," she murmurs throatily, her mouth tracing a path along my jaw line to the point of my chin. Abruptly, she sits back, meeting my bewildered eyes with a stern expression. "But don't get any ideas about giving me a late Christmas present from Tiffany's," she warns. "As far as I'm concerned, you've used up your expensive gift quota for the next two or three centuries."

"Yes, ma'am," I respond, smirking.

Bella leans forward, her eyelids falling half-closed, and I wait eagerly for a kiss – but she continues to speak, her lips brushing over mine in playful, sensuous torment. "I really like this dress, don't you?"

Helpless, I manage to hum in assent, though it sounds more like a low growl.

"I would hate for it to be ruined," she whispers. Her mouth curves into a smile, and she extracts herself from my embrace to stand in front of the crackling fire, turning her back to me.

Peering coyly over a shoulder, she unzips the dress in a single fluid motion. The gap exposes a tantalizing swathe of soft white skin, and I swallow hard, my fingertips tingling with desire.

A mischievous sparkle lights up her amber eyes, and then she whirls into the hallway, vanishing around the corner in a blur of chocolate and ivory.

For a fraction of a second, I am rendered immobile by the power Bella holds over me and the yearning that she has inflamed within my entire being.

Cognizance returns like a white-hot flash of lightning, and before I can draw another breath, my legs propel me to our room. I close the door quietly behind me, my gaze locked on the figure silhouetted by the glittering snowfall blanketing the small garden outside.

Bella's bare limbs glows pearlescent in the dim light as she watches the snow, her dark hair a river of ink that flows down her back, and a lump wells in my throat. This magnificent, sacred creature deemed me worthy of her love – and though I have hurt her, maimed her fragile yet stalwart heart – still she chose to accept me, sacrificing her humanity for the promise of forever together.

A burning ache floods my body, fueled by the need to feel her skin on mine, and I quickly shed all inhibitions, leaving my clothes in a pile on the floor.

I wrap my arms tightly around her, pressing my cheek against the crown of her head, and sigh in relief as our bodies conjoin flawlessly. The arc of her spine fits into the planes of my torso, and her slim arms rise to rest atop my own, her shoulders lifting in a slow breath.

It is then that I notice Bella's expression in the window. Instead of looking out at the snow, her eyes are studying her reflection in the glass, her features pensive.

She must read the question in my gaze, for she says in a low voice, "I was thinking about…when I woke up as a vampire, and how Alice wanted me to see what I looked like." Her head tilts a little to the side as she considers her own face in the frosted pane. "I remember thinking that the girl in the mirror wasn't really me – that she couldn't be me – because I didn't recognize her." She pauses, and then her tone changes, becoming wry as she goes on. "She was so beautiful, which made me glad, but all the things I used to find wrong with myself were just…gone."

Nuzzling into the crook of her neck, I whisper soothingly, "Bella, love, you are exactly the same as you have always been. I know you don't believe me, but you were beautiful as a human, and you are beautiful as a vampire. That will never change." A soft chuckle escapes my mouth. "You_ do_ have difficulty seeing yourself clearly, after all," I murmur against her collarbone.

Her left hand moves up to curl around the back of my head, her fingers tangling in my hair. "But that's what I have you for," she breathes shakily. "Right?"

She may be only humoring me, yet I am fervently sincere as I raise my lips to her ear and whisper, " _'And since you know you cannot see yourself, so well as by reflection, I, your glass, will modestly discover to yourself, that of yourself which you yet know not of.'_ "

A shudder ripples through her, and suddenly her arms are fastened around my neck, our mouths melding together in a searing kiss. Molten fire rushes through my veins, bursts of bright light erupt behind my pupils, and the angel in my embrace calls out my name as the explosion thrusts us both into the starry realms of heaven.

We drift back to earth while the winter sunlight illuminates the silver-gray horizon.

It is a struggle to let Bella out of my arms, knowing that this day marks one of the final swings of the pendulum, but she offers wordless assurance by pressing her lips to the troubled crease between my brows before sliding off the rumpled sheets.

In silence, we both choose garments that are sturdy yet flexible for movement. There is no reason to carry additional clothing to the field – at least not for the two of us – and once she is dressed, Bella heads to Renesmee's room, a small black leather backpack slung over her shoulder. Assuming it is for our daughter's use, I pay it no further mind.

Jacob shows up on the doorstep not ten minutes later, his expression somber but his dark eyes blazing with almost feral anticipation. Rather than inviting him to come inside, the three of us join him on the icy stone pathway.

"We got everything worked out last night," he informs Bella and I as we journey through the forest. "Half of the combined packs will wait out the next few days in the woods, and once the Volturi arrive, Sam will call the rest of them to form ranks around our side. That should even the odds quite a bit," he adds brashly, his teeth glittering in his red-brown face.

Bella's head suddenly whips sideways, an oddly panicked look twisting her features. "But you'll stay by us, right, Jake?" she rattles off, eyes wide.

He stares down at her in mock-disbelief, scoffing, "Like you have to ask. I'm not letting Nessie get five feet away from me until this is over."

The house looms beyond the barren, twisted branches of the ancient cedars just ahead, and a tense, business-like atmosphere has settled over every mind inside.

Carlisle and I had agreed some time ago that we would stay in the clearing for two days before the rest of our family and our witnesses arrive. He, Esme, Rosalie, and Emmett are waiting for us just inside, their well-known faces displaying a wide variety of emotions.

My mother's brave expression belies her deep-seated terror as she strives to keep a level head. Rose's inborn tenacity is the fuel that feeds her need to protect our family – particularly its newest addition. Emmett, with his backbone of steel and all-encompassing heart, tosses me a large duffel, remarking, "See you soon, brother."

And as my father swiftly kisses Esme before moving towards the door, his unwavering inner serenity is fractured by apprehension and profound grief. When he glimpses my expression from the corner of his eye, the barest shadow of a smile flits across his lips. _I am far from perfect, son,_ he says mentally. _Even I have doubts._ Then, he begins to recite from the fifty-fifth Psalm while bidding us aloud that it is time to leave. _'__Give ear to my prayer; O God; and hide not thyself from my supplication…'_

Jacob phases into wolf form in order to keep pace, and our small group reaches the field at mid-morning. Scraggly blades of yellowed meadow grass poke through the thin layer of snow on the ground, but one decent winter storm will coat the clearing in the thick drifts that blanketed it in Alice's vision.

Several yards to the east, surrounded by a cluster of icy firs, is a circular area that will be perfect for a makeshift campsite. I cart the duffel in that direction, trailed by Bella and Renesmee, and start to remove the tent poles and stakes from the canvas bag.

Jacob wanders over after a minute or so, volunteering, "I can give you a hand with that." He grabs a handful of support poles without waiting for a response. Though it would probably take me less than half the time to construct the tent on my own, I allow him to help out, reading in his thoughts a powerful desire to contribute in any way, especially when it comes to Renesmee's safety and well-being.

At one point, while he is holding the tent's framework in place and I drive the stakes into the frozen earth with my hand, Jacob lets out a faint chuckle. Bella glances at him curiously, and I look up, raising an eyebrow. "You know…" he comments with a wry grin, "this sort of feels like déjà vu."

Vivid memories of last June bombard my senses. "Yes. It does," I agree in a low voice. Everything had been so hideously out of balance between the three of us, yet now with Renesmee's presence, the scales have tipped even.

Of course, the irony is that our world seems to have righted itself as we hover on the cusp of annihilation.

Bella never leaves my side from the moment we set foot in the clearing. Once the tent is erected and Renesmee wriggles from her arms to investigate, she darts over to me and clutches my hand tightly, weaving our fingers together. And throughout the next two days, we are constantly sharing some form of physical contact, as though it is impossible for our bodies to remain separated.

When I need my hands free while Carlisle and I study the well-worn map of upper Washington, Bella stands very close to my left side, her palm resting gently on my back. When Renesmee begs for her mother's attention and leaps into her outstretched arms, I pull her close, fiddling absently with strands of her dark hair. Every second we are together, no matter how seemingly mundane, should be cherished.

At dawn on the day before New Year's Eve, Tanya and her family arrive with Esme, Rosalie, Emmett, Benjamin and Tia, Garrett, and Siobhan's coven. My mother informs us that the others are still preparing and will join our group by tomorrow morning. She also passes on the news that a massive snowfall is expected sometime this evening.

All eyes shift to me. I nod once, very slowly.

Keenly ambitious to put his strategy to good use, Benjamin recruits several other vampires to assist him in burying piles of boulders in the ground for him to call upon with his talent, should the need arise. Granted, it will accomplish nothing but a second's hesitation for a member of the Volturi guard, yet Benjamin is convinced that it might help.

While he oversees this task, Emmett picks up the scent of a nearby herd of black-tailed deer and rallies our family and the Denali clan for a hunt.

Most of them have been recently sated, so a single herd will be enough, but Bella and I have not attended to our thirst since Christmas night. Bearing that in mind, we run with the others for only a few miles before I start searching the air for another trail.

Faint whiffs of the less appealing blood of elk mingle with the warm, spicy aroma of a carnivore. The mountain lion is most likely tracking the herd, and its path will lead us to them both.

Still linked by our clasped hands, Bella and I sprint noiselessly through the forest, coming upon the mountain lion just as he is about to pounce on his own unsuspecting prey. As one, we bring the big cat down – Bella fastening her mouth on the jugular as I bite down on a smaller artery – and share the hot, quenching liquid. Afterward, we briefly drift apart in order to corner the elk, but once the herd is decimated our fingers reach toward the other almost unconsciously.

Too soon, dusk falls upon the world, and heralds it's coming with the promised snowstorm that my mother spoke of. Dense layers of steely gray and bruise-colored clouds fill the sky, obscuring the peaks of the surrounding mountain range. Heavy white flakes saturate the air and swirl in little eddies across the field, clinging to the thin coating of ice on the ground with purpose.

Inside the tent, Bella, Jacob, and I sit in a loose semi-circle amid a heap of down sleeping bags. Renesmee is curled inside the one on top, fast asleep, her curly bronze head resting on a pillow in Bella's lap. The three of us converse sparingly for a brief time, and then lapse into silence. Jacob eventually succumbs to exhaustion, his snores vaguely reminiscent of a howling wolf, and I throw a blanket over his sprawled form.

Slim arms wrap around my waist, and Bella pulls me to the floor, Renesmee's tiny body spooned behind her. My own arms enfold her delicate frame, urging her closer, until our noses touch and we share the same breath.

She raises her hand to my face and, as light as a butterfly's wing, begins to trace my features, the movements nearly identical to the very first time her skin caressed mine in our meadow. Her eyes gaze relentlessly into my own, even as I brush my fingers against her cheek, following the curve of her jaw to her lips, and stroke her bottom lip with the pad of my thumb.

On and on, we use the simplest tokens of affection to comfort one another, memorizing every fine hair and subtle arc in the contours of our bodies. The purity of this wordless, intimate communication affects the deepest core of my being – as if my very soul is responding to hers, tightening the bonds that link her fate with mine.

Outside, the blustery wind has abated, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake. I rise to my feet, Bella locked securely in my arms, and leave the tent, a trickle of snow sliding from the zipper.

Standing at the edge of the open field, I grip her hand firmly as we stare across the bleached landscape, waiting for the sun to rise. As its red-gold rays pierce the thick clouds and create bands of fiery glitter over the clearing, there is no mistaking that the pendulum has reached the final swing. The future has arrived.

In the course of the early morning hours, the rest of our assembled witnesses filter through the trees and into the field. The endless droning of thoughts fills my skull like a hive of bees, but I let the noise rush over me as the tide, unwilling to waste energy on attempting to block the others when I will need to keep myself wide open to hear Aro and his guard.

Soft rustles in the underbrush and the heavy thudding of large paws on the frozen ground give evidence to the wolves' presence just as their collective psyche adds to the din in my head. Seth graciously sends me a greeting, also voicing his positive belief that things will turn out all right, and to my faint surprise his sister does not snap at him to stay focused. In fact, Leah's mind is more…disciplined, as of late. The hard-edged bitterness is still present, along with her deep-seated resentment of vampires and her lot in life, but she seems to have come into herself as Jacob's second in the pack.

The tent flap is pushed aside only seconds later, and Jacob strides into the woods without a backward glance, mentally settling into the coolly alert persona of an Alpha.

Bella slips her hand from mine – my skin feels bereft without hers – and walks toward the tent, where Renesmee is still sleeping. Carlisle calls for me as she disappears inside, and I jog across the field to help him arrange our group into a concentrated, but not outwardly aggressive front. Those who had firmly offered their support if this turns into a fight are positioned closest to the center, while the others are left a bit further from the main line.

Our family makes up a loose pair of lines a little ahead and directly centered between the witnesses. Emmett and Rosalie form the first row with Tanya, Kate, and Eleazar; a space for Carlisle and myself hovers between Emmett and Tanya.

The second row now consists of Zafrina, with Senna just behind her right elbow, Benjamin, who is seated cross-legged in the snow, his hands pressed to the hidden dirt, Esme, and Garrett. Kate peers over her shoulder at the nomad with an unreadable expression in her brilliant gold eyes. He tosses her a lopsided grin and a wink in response.

"Please, Siobhan." My father's hushed tones carry across the field like the light breeze that stirs the powdery snow. I glance sideways to see him beseeching the statuesque redhead to employ the gift that he staunchly believes her to possess. She gazes back at him, a flicker of uncertainty wrinkling her smooth brow. "As a friend, I am asking you to trust me," he murmurs earnestly. "Just _try._ That is all I'm asking. Please…just try."

Siobhan sighs, her vivid ruby eyes falling shut for an instant. "Very well," she agrees.

He clasps both her hands, expressing with fervor, "Thank you."

A tiny smile graces her bowed lips. _"Beannachd Dia dhuit_, Carlisle," she tells him, the blessing rolling from her tongue in lilting sincerity.

"And with us all," he adds. Releasing her hands, my father moves on to speak one last time to the rest of his old friends.

An ocean of voices swells and recedes inside my mind, the continuous hum becoming fairly easy to ignore – when a sudden shriek of denial, so filled with horror and dismay that it is almost unrecognizable, cuts through the din like a white-hot blade.

It vanishes in a fraction of a second, leaving a mental impression much like a streak of white seared into the eyes after looking at a bright light. Swiftly, I scan the area, looking for any visible signs of the mind that is experiencing such distress…but there is not the smallest hint. Needless to say, it could have been anyone, and considering the current situation, there is no time for speculation.

Twenty yards from the assembly, Bella exits the tent, Renesmee held tightly in her arms. The little black backpack is hung on our daughter's shoulders, and a glittering circle of gold winds around Bella's neck, a sparkling sphere nestled in the hollow of her throat.

Curious as to why she would decide to wear Aro's wedding gift today of all days, I raise an eyebrow while they approach, but keep my thoughts to myself. As with everything else that has happened in the past few weeks, Bella must have a reason.

In half a dozen steps, I meet their approach. My arms encircle both Bella's lithe frame and our daughter's dainty figure, and I drop my head onto her shoulder, burying my face in the silky curtain of hair, my eyes drifting closed. Her free arm coils around my waist as she moves forward another handful of millimeters, until our bodies are flush against one another.

Renesmee leans hard into my chest, nuzzling her warm cheek against the place above my heart, and I press my lips together to stifle the urge to scream at the heavens – at God Himself – over the sheer injustice of gifting us with this precious life, only to have it cut short because of a single chance encounter that could never have been predicted or averted.

She still blames herself, our sweet little girl. The guilt resides deep in her mind – a bitter aftertaste lingering beneath the unceasing echoes of her love for Bella and I, as well as a blackened shroud of anguish that remains unfocused, covering her recent memories.

Millenniums rise and fall while I hold the entire universe in my embrace. And I realize, with a certainty that lightens the weight pushing down on my soul, that_ this_ is my eternity. The last knot has been tied; the die has been cast. Wherever the course of destiny may lead, we will be together. Bella is half of all that I am, and Renesmee is the miraculous blending of our lives made flesh. I have to believe that the heaven I have found with them will continue on through whatever waits on the other side of the veil.

But this inherent faith will not keep me from fighting.

I will do anything to preserve our happiness _here,_ among our family and friends, until not a cell in my body contains the strength to go on.

I will protect them.

A slow, deep sigh leaves my chest, and I gradually lower my arms, backing away several inches. Bella meets my eyes unblinking, seeming to search mine for some unknown emotion, but she will find only love, determination, and hope.

Flickering sparks, like the guttering flame of a candle in the wind, glitter within her amber irises. In unison, we pivot on heel and walk towards the front lines, shoulder to shoulder, while Renesmee transfers her small body to her mother's back. Bella takes her place in the second row between Zafrina and Benjamin, and I move to occupy the space next to my father and brother, staring straight ahead.

The pendulum begins to slow.

Behind me, Benjamin mutters to himself about memorizing the patterns of the fault lines running underneath the layers of snow, dirt, and rock, his power latching onto each one like a hand attaching to the strings of a marionette – preparing to manipulate the earth as he wishes.

Far to the right, just inside my field of vision, Siobhan is massaging her temples with her fingertips, her eyes shut tight in concentration. Both Maggie and Liam watch her covertly with fleeting sidelong glances.

Rosalie throws a furtive look in Emmett's direction. He catches her in the act and grins broadly, snagging her slim hand in his much larger one. Carlisle continues his inward supplication to the divine, and on the outskirts of the clearing, the wolves stand at the ready – massive, furred sentinels intent upon defending the land their ancestors claimed – their connected minds humming with anticipation and final instructions from the two cooperating leaders.

Fierce gusts of wind soar across the treetops and through the field while the low clouds roll in from atop the mountains, muting the sunlight to a dim, washed out glow. Shadows gather ominously around the edges of the clearing, the wind quiets as suddenly as it had begun, and grim recognition settles over my mind like a leaden canopy. I have seen this before. My eyes tighten, and my hands flex at my sides, struggling to curl into fists despite my rigid self-control.

Those closest to me respond to my unconscious reaction, their thoughts teeming in stress, but I am aware only of the soft intake of air at my back. Instinctively, my stance widens, my body becoming a shield for the center of my existence and our little morning star.

_Screw it._

His mental declaration still ringing in my skull, Jacob abruptly lopes out of the woods, his russet-furred shape a flame of vivid color across the white landscape.

Esme moves aside, peering up at the huge wolf gratefully, and Zafrina slides one step to the right, shifting closer to Benjamin while Jacob fits himself next to Bella, his tail brushing against the snow-covered ground in agitated swishes.

Relief, mixed with a secret heartache so poignant that I lose my breath, fills Renesmee's bright mind. She stretches her hand out and weaves her tiny fingers through Jacob's thick fur, her palm touching the taut muscles of his shoulder.

He exhales heavily, his breath filling the air as wisps of steam. In a razor-edged, unforgiving mental voice, Jacob vows, _I am going to keep her safe. I swear to God: if it's the last thing I do, I am going to keep her safe._

The oath rings true for me, as well. Staring relentlessly at the tree line on the far end of the field, I reach my left hand backwards to Bella. She grasps it with her own as though she has no intention of ever letting go, and I gently squeeze her fingers. The faceted texture of the diamonds on her ring press into my skin – the symbol of another promise – and I resolve to myself that as she seeks to protect our strongest offensive allies in the likely pending battle, I will use every skill in my arsenal to defend her.

A faint breeze, like the chilled touch of a ghost, stirs the frozen atmosphere.

And the pendulum comes to a stop.

Whispers float on the fringe of my perception, growing louder and more defined with each passing second. Until, with a forceful rush of clarity, the thoughts take shape.

Stiffening, a hiss pulls itself through my clenched teeth. I can hear them now.

My head fills with Demetri's sense of triumph at locating his master's quarry and Felix's unquenchable lust for violence.

Both are soon overridden by Jane's sadistic zeal to cause pain, and since she assumes that my talent is within range, she envisions my entire family writhing in agony at her feet – lingering on her imagined picture of my Bella's exquisite face twisted into a mask of pain.

Only the reminder that such a feat is impossible keeps me from roaring for that demon's death.

Then I hear the mind that is cunning and complicated, ancient and clever, scheming and deceitful. The unique tenor of his thought pattern rises above the others like foam on the waves of the ocean, equal to the power of those waves as they crash upon the shore, eroding the earth into whatever form suits its purpose. And Aro is absolutely convinced that he can do the same to my family – grinding some into the dust, and wearing down others until they can be bent to his will.

A branch shivers amid the clustered trees across the field. The quiet brush of a velvet hem swirls a thin cloud of powdery snow. Shadows begin to undulate into figures, parting through the forest like a stream of dark water.

I square my shoulders, lifting my chin high. Bella clutches my hand tightly.

_So it begins._

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**Author's Notes:** And I am sorry about the cliffhanger; it was just a good place for a chapter break.

Portions of the dialogue are cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 665-678.

The play Edward reads to Renesmee is _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ by William Shakespeare, Act II Scene I.

Anyone who would like to see images of Bella's cocktail dress, head on over to my profile.

The line Edward quotes to Bella in their bedroom is from_ Julius Caesar _by William Shakespeare, Act I Scene II.

Finally, the Gaelic phrase Siobhan speaks to Carlisle translates as: _"Blessings of God be with you."_


	18. Bloodlust

**Chapter Notes:** This chapter needs little introduction, so I won't offer a long, drawn out preface. What I will say is that each character became more alive than ever to me as I wrote this, and a few seemed to take control of my mind – as frightening as that sounds – intent on making themselves known in ways I never imagined.

Enjoy.

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Like spilled ink bleeding across an empty canvas, the Volturi descend upon the snow-laden field.

Opening myself fully as a gateway for their thoughts, I cannot detect the slightest apprehension in regard to our assemblage…nor did I expect to. As the most powerful coven in the world, they are a literal force of nature against any opposition, and they know it.

Supreme confidence and an unyielding sense of loyalty radiates from every mind in the guard, though Felix – I have already marked his hulking frame, swathed in a ash-gray cloak – is eager for the opportunity to create some destruction with his own hands rather than watching Jane and Alec _'have all the fun'._

The procession unfolds then, forming angular lines like the wings of a raptor, with the black heart of their power nestled securely in the center. This dance, this passive display of authority, is one that they have performed for millennia. The nightmarish splendor of their movements is difficult to ignore; the rigid silence shrouding our side of the clearing is proof enough of that.

However, a mockingly secretive murmur pierces the stillness from somewhere behind my right shoulder, awakening everyone from their tense daze. "The redcoats are coming, the redcoats are coming." Garrett chuckles once, lowly, and sidles closer to Kate. If she were to lean backward on her heels, her spine would press into his chest.

Kate's pale blonde head turns reflexively as the nomad nears, but does not comment on his adjusted proximity. If anything, she seems almost…_glad_…of Garrett's protectiveness toward her, and the flickering upward curve of her lips that Tanya glimpses solidifies that theory.

_At last,_ a vengeful whisper hisses on the edge of my mind, and then Vladimir mutters aloud to his brother, "They did come."

Stefan replies with a nod, "The wives. The entire guard." His crimson eyes narrow hungrily. "All of them together. It's well we didn't try Volterra," he adds as an afterthought.

A half second later, the forest gives way to yet another incursion of guests. It is clear from the diverse assortment of vampires, their faces displaying expressions of shock and some concern over the gathered throng opposing the Volturi as they follow in their wake, that these are Aro's equivalent of spectators.

Like those who had flocked to the Roman Coliseum in centuries past to be entertained by gladiators and public executions, this mob of immortals would be all too willing to witness our demise. A fact which becomes blatantly obvious as their collective surprise fades into vindictive rage.

My free hand contracts into a tight fist at my side, and I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back a snarl. This newly arrived group may not be waving pitchforks and torches, but they are the outraged rabble in every sense of the term.

A few spot Renesmee clutching Bella's shoulders, her tiny white face peering around her mother's dark hair, and bare their teeth in fury. My instincts scream for me to shield her from their cruel, unforgiving stares, but logic declares that she must be visible, for each second that she captures their attention, it becomes clearer that she is far more than an immortal child.

The two symbiotic and yet completely contrary hosts of vampires drift closer to the invisible boundary line between our forces, and one slender figure separates itself from both, hovering in the space dividing the cloaked Volturi from their horde of compatriots.

Silvery blonde tresses undulate in the slight breeze, floating across Irina's conflicted features, her irises a deep ocher from lack of nourishment, and Emmett stiffens beside me as her gaze sweeps the line.

When she spies her sisters – Tanya's face hard and Kate's lips peeled back into a sneer – the final member of the Denali coven starts visibly, her eyes growing impossibly wide in horror.

I ignore their cascading thoughts and focus intently on the trio of black-robed forms that make up the core of the Volturi's confederacy.

Marcus remains as he was in Volterra: flaccid and blank – lost in the gray mists of limbo, to be called upon whenever his brothers have use for him.

Caius studies our amassed witnesses with the slitted gaze of a predator. As his eyes pass over me, he switches his internal monologue to Etruscan, limiting his concentration to the present moment.

Aro, to my disconcerted surprise, does not attempt to hinder his thoughts from my gift. Instead, he wears the patient expression of one who is about to receive a longed-for reward – and in the millisecond it takes me to register the tone of his mind, I can read their entire strategy. Everything they have planned, even before Irina arrived in Volterra, is laid bare like an opened book.

The snarl rips through my clenched teeth, and Aro's cheek twitches in satisfaction. He_ wanted_ me to see their designs for my family – to see the futility of trying to resist – and undiluted hatred flares like a blistering inferno in my chest.

_Edward?_ Carlisle thinks anxiously, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. The slim fingers coiled around mine spasm weakly as the feral sound dies in my throat, and that involuntary reminder of her presence grants me the necessary perspective to answer my father's unspoken question.

"Alistair was right," I mutter, angling my head towards Carlisle without taking my attention from the advancing line.

He peers sideways, quizzical, as Tanya whispers at a volume just above the whistling wind, "Alistair was right?"

Matching her tone, I reply quickly, "They – Caius and Aro – come to destroy and acquire. They have many layers of strategy already in place. If Irina's accusation had somehow proven to be false, they were committed to find another reason to take offense." My upper lip curls, hostility leaking into my words as I go on. "But they can see Renesmee now, so they are perfectly sanguine about their course. We could still attempt to defend against their other contrived charges, but first they have to stop, to hear the truth about Renesmee." I pause, averse to finishing but also knowing that I must, and breathe out, "Which they have no intention of doing."

The red-brown wolf beside Bella huffs – a peculiar noise that sounds vaguely like a non-verbal signal of some kind…and then I hear Jacob's voice ringing in my head. _It's time._

With uniformed precision, the wolves leave the cover of the woods to our rear and enter the clearing. Barely two seconds go by before the Volturi notice their presence and Aro, his ruby-colored eyes widening a bit in amazement, flicks his head almost imperceptibly to the left.

The procession halts at once, a hundred yards from us, and I watch the stoic expressions on the guards' faces waver, struggling to remain passive, while our numbers increase.

Sixteen wolves join Jacob among our ranks, forming two lines of four on either side of the group. Those in front are older, more experienced – Sam takes point at the rightmost line – while the newcomers linger in back, each one radiating a mixture of anticipation and fear.

A stab of icy guilt momentarily quenches the fire building within me. Seven wolves are gangly, their paws shifting almost clumsily on the snow. They are not much more than children, thrust into this world of make-believe because of their heritage, and I gather from the pack psyche that the youngest Quileute is only twelve – a few months past puberty.

And he, along with all his brothers and the she-wolf, were prepared to die with us. Die_ for_ us.

Bella's grip on my hand tightens; I can feel the steely tendons lacing the muscles in her arm flex, her toes beginning to dig into the frozen ground. A vicious, guttural sound rises from her mouth, and the hunter in me fights to react in the same primal manner, to respond to the challenge my mate has issued to the threat against our family.

I hold onto the fraying threads of reason and squeeze her hand in warning, even as Zafrina and Senna echo her growl with equal intensity, their wild consciousnesses swirling like twin hurricanes, battering against the walls protecting my innermost thoughts.

Reassessing the situation in light of the wolves' arrival, Aro and Caius converse inwardly, the tips of Aro's fingers resting lightly on Caius' hand. For a fleeting moment, Aro departs from strategy and scans each face arrayed across from him with earnest expectation.

_Where is she?_ he slips up briefly, his brow crinkling as he searches for the black-haired psychic whose talent he covets – the prize he most wanted to attain with this course of action.

But she is nowhere to be found.

Disappointed, Aro's lips flatten, his hopes waning but not dashed. Caius glances at him sternly.

_You knew, Alice, didn't you?_ I muse to myself. And I realize that I am content, comforted even, by the knowledge that my beloved sister had foreseen this and run. Perhaps the only way we could reach this brief stalemate is if she removed herself from the equation.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Aro examines Marcus' thoughts – the other vampire's white hand slack and limp as a dead fish in his own – analyzing the potency of the bonds shared within our group. At the same time, Caius starts to pick out their main targets while also pondering the unfamiliar additions among us and the mysterious partnership we seem to have with the wolves.

A flicker of hesitation crackles between the brothers, and air filters rapidly through my lungs as comprehension dawns. Why they had stopped, why they were delaying their advance… It is not only because of Alice's absence, but due to something entirely unexpected from the invincible Italian coven.

Uncertainty. Worry.

_Fear._

They are_ afraid_ to engage in a battle that they may not be able to win.

Those around me tense in unease, disquieted by my reaction, and Carlisle asks, "Edward?"

Spurred on by this newfound awareness, I breathe out in a swift, fervent voice, "They're not sure how to proceed. They're weighing options, choosing key targets – me, of course, you, Eleazar, Tanya. Marcus is reading the strength of our ties to each other, looking for weak points."

I pause infinitesimally, listening to an abrupt burst of annoyance from Caius as he catches sight of two familiar faces on the far left of our company. My lips twitch in dry amusement, and I mutter, "The Romanians' presence irritates them."

Aro's gaze sweeps the field, lingering on the pair of fierce, dark-skinned females poised near the front line and the furred mountains of muscle and sinew fogging the chilled morning with their heaving breaths. With one part of my brain completely focused on his thoughts, I continue to explain. "They're worried about the faces they don't recognize – Zafrina and Senna in particular – and the wolves, naturally. They've never been outnumbered before." A torrent of half-finished exclamations fill my head after that remark; Bella's fingers still inside my palm. "That's what stopped them," I finish in a nearly inaudible undertone.

"Outnumbered?" Tanya stares in my direction with incredulous golden eyes. _But what about…?_ She tilts her strawberry-blonde head fractionally toward the motley bunch loitering near the tree line on the opposite end of the clearing.

"They don't count their witnesses," I reply, my lips barely moving with the words. "They are nonentities, meaningless to the guard." Derision leaves a bitter sting in my voice as I mumble, "Aro just enjoys an audience."

Carlisle gazes across the snowy expanse at the three brothers for a full second, deep in thought, his dark blonde brows curved into an expression of sorrow and caution_. I would like nothing more than to end this confrontation peacefully, _he deliberates inwardly. _For the sake of the companionship we once shared, surely they will grant me the opportunity to absolve my family of guilt. _Then he wavers, _Yet…Aro must know that I would rather follow an avenue of diplomacy instead of conflict. If I can appeal to the civility he strives to preserve…_

The second passes in a soft gust of wind that carries tiny ice crystals into our faces, and my father turns his head to look at my hardened profile. "Should I speak?" he inquires, a calm veneer draped over his features. Behind him, Esme draws in a sharp breath, her mind electrified with a jolt of fear.

Hesitating, I regard the ancient trio and their entourage – the cloaked figures appearing to float above the white ground like creatures made of shadow – and examine the lines of thought connecting Aro and Caius. Their indecision is predominant over the tactical plans and faint traces of frustration; it seems as though they are waiting for_ our_ next move, which will help them to determine how to proceed.

I nod slowly, affirming Carlisle's choice to act as an emissary, and respond quietly, "This is the only chance you'll get."

He pulls himself upright, his head high and shoulders squared, and walks with measured steps into the no-man's land separating us from the Volturi.

More than several pairs of hooded scarlet eyes narrow suspiciously as he moves forward alone, and the crowd of witnesses near the woods hold their collective breath, disbelieving Carlisle's audacity to approach.

Esme clasps her hands in front of her breast like she is in prayer, interlocking her fingers so tightly that the knuckles are bone-white with strain.

About a dozen feet from our defensive line, Carlisle halts and spreads his arms wide, palms facing upward – a benign gesture of greeting. "Aro, my old friend," he says in a serene, genuinely kind tone. "It's been centuries."

A dim suggestion of a contemptuous sneer twists Caius' upper lip while silvery tresses that mimic the wintry landscape dance around the icy, chiseled hollows of his cheekbones, but Aro lifts his black eyebrows in mild surprise, cocking his head ever so slightly as he considers Carlisle's opening statement.

'_Old friend'. Ah, Carlisle…in three hundred years, your quixotic view of the world has not changed. It is refreshing._ The hint of amiable delight flavoring this thought is impossible to doubt, but it quickly fades into calculating speculation. _Yet how have you managed to bring so many talented individuals into your fold? Hmm…_

A flash of multicolored light interrupts his musing, followed by an image from his memory of Alice peering up at him in the Volterra stronghold, her topaz irises glowing with strong-willed tenacity_. Perhaps the so-called familial bonds among your coven are more easily severed than I had first surmised if young Alice was able to walk away in your hour of need, _he reflects.

My teeth grind against one another as I clench my jaw, the cords of muscle in my limbs stiffening, and I sense Bella lean a few centimeters closer to my back.

_No matter,_ Aro continues on, recapturing my attention. _Though you have lost one or two, you have gained quite a number of allies in their stead. It is curious, indeed, how Carlisle – who has never craved or asked for power – assembled such a…diverse…group to support his family._

Inquisitive burgundy eyes rove across our lines once again. _Yes…_ Aro's flickering glances touch on Eleazar, Kate, Zafrina and Senna, Benjamin, and then finally on Bella. The same interest he had shown towards her in Volterra has increased a hundred-fold now that she is a vampire, and he is more driven than ever to discover if her gift has manifested.

_Most curious…_ his mind breathes earnestly, scrutinizing my Bella with avid fascination.

Reacting instinctively, my possessive streak flaring like a falling star plummeting from orbit, I shift my posture, blocking most of her body from his view.

His gaze connects with mine, the filmy orbs tinged with humor. _Curiosity,_ he sends directly to me, his mental voice rueful_. A state of being that plagues me quite often. _He shakes his head very slightly, and his mind switches to his former ruminating of Carlisle's intent, his attention now fixed on the lone figure straddling the boundary between our opposing forces, still waiting for a response.

_Justice must be dealt to those at fault, _Aro reminds himself,_ but Carlisle is an honorable one, though a bit misguided. Maybe…a trial… Yes, a trial – a chance to acquit his coven's actions. We can offer an old friend that much._

His course decided, Aro begins to move forward from the center of the guard. A lithe woman with a halo of wavy black hair and timorous scarlet eyes shadows his every step, her palm pressed against his right shoulder blade. Renata's stare darts from side to side, her movements fluid and yet somehow erratic – like a fox kit accompanying its parent on a hunt for the first time.

The mute figures in gray suddenly erupt with low protests as their master departs from the safety of their formation. Jane scowls darkly, her thin lips parting over her teeth, while her twin's brow furrows in puzzlement, wondering why Aro is indulging us with a semblance of armistice. Demetri merely watches the ancient's progress with vigilant, narrowed eyes, and Felix rumbles out a deep growl, his formidable bulk leaning agilely into a crouch. A few of his neighbors copy his stance as the sound builds across their lines, incensed and restless.

Without removing his steady gaze from Carlisle, Aro holds up one hand, palm forward. "Peace," he murmurs softly, but with an air of command.

Silence covers the field once again instantaneously.

Gliding five more paces into the dividing space between his forces and ours, Aro then drifts to a stop and tilts his head slightly, the same inquisitive gleam in his crimson irises as before. My father holds his pose, his expression open, and waits for the elder vampire to speak.

"Fair words, Carlisle," he says after a moment. Shrewd to no end, he maintains control of the conversation by adding as an almost bewildered observation, "They seem out of place, considering the army you've assembled to kill me, and to kill my dear ones."

I barely hold back a scoff when Aro uses an endearment to describe the_ pawns_ arrayed around him and his brothers. Some are more powerful and rarer than others, and a few would be nearly impossible to replace, but each and every one of them is – in a word – expendable.

Meanwhile, Carlisle shakes his head as he breathes out slowly and offers his right hand, even though there is still quite a distance separating the two of them. "You have but to touch my hand to know that was never my intent," he tells Aro in a deliberate, even tone.

_Indeed._ Aro's stare narrows – not in anger but with cleverness – having successfully steered their discussion back to the business at hand: our family's supposed crime. "But how can your intent possibly matter, dear Carlisle, in the face of what you have done?" he asks in lament. A sorrowful frown crinkles his mouth, yet his eyes remain keen as polished garnet.

My father leaves his hand extended, determined to somehow salvage this diplomatic travesty, and replies, "I have not committed the crime you are here to punish me for."_ None of us have…as I believe you well know, _he comments to himself.

A faint ripple of surprise resonates through Carlisle and is echoed by nearly all present as Aro entreats, his sincerity genuine or else skillfully feigned, "Then step aside and let us punish those responsible. Truly, Carlisle, nothing would please me more than to preserve your life today."

"No one has broken the law, Aro," Carlisle answers, lifting his outstretched palm a little higher. "Let me explain," he urges quietly.

_Enough of this foolishness._ Caius stalks to his brother's side as Aro prepares to respond, his hissed words dripping with malice and disdain, "So many pointless rules, so many unnecessary laws you create for yourself, Carlisle." _You mock the superiority of our race with your softhearted drivel,_ he sneers inwardly.

My fist contracts at my side, the nails digging into my skin, as I recall what their so-called 'superior race' did to those unsuspecting tourists that had been herded like cattle into their tower last spring.

The white-haired vampire goes on, his voice contemptuous, "How is it possible that you defend the breaking of one that truly matters?"

"The law is not broken," Carlisle inserts, his tranquility a counterpoint to Caius' heated spite. "If you would listen –"

Caius cuts him off with a snarl. "We see the child, Carlisle." _Abomination that it is – and guarded by the one that should never have left Volterra alive with his then-human mate._ "Do not treat us as fools."

Striving to uphold the sliver of peace he has purported, my father contradicts as civilly as possible, "She is_ not_ an immortal. She is not a vampire. I can easily prove this with just a few moments –"

"If she is not one of the forbidden," Caius challenges harshly, "then why have you massed a battalion to protect her?"

"Witnesses, Caius," Carlisle says, resolute in sustaining an amenable perspective, "just as you have brought." He gestures with his open hand to the mismatched throng near the forest's edge. Several react violently – their expressions contorting into fierce grimaces, growls erupting from their throats – at being referred to by a pronounced heretic.

Carlisle ignores them, turning to sweep his arm across the gathered vampires supporting our family, his tone earnest as he states, "Any one of these friends can tell you the truth about the child. Or you could just look at her, Caius." He fixes the outraged ancient with intense, burning-gold eyes. "See the flush of human blood in her cheeks," he encourages.

Caius does not even bother to glance at Renesmee, his mind tinged with the red haze of fury. "Artifice!" he roars. Carlisle very slowly begins to lower his hand as the most volatile Volturi brother rages on. "Where is the informer?" Caius demands, his ebony cloak whirling around him like a thundercloud as he spins to face the guard. "Let her come forward!"

He scans the hardened, impassive features of the cloaked followers for a few seconds, and then spies Irina's silver-blonde head just beyond the shrouded figures of Sulpicia and Athenodora at the rear of their entourage. "You!" he shouts, pointing one long, white finger in her direction. "Come!"

Locked in a horrified trance, her thoughts repeating over and over_: This is not how it was supposed to happen… _Irina wrenches her wide-eyed gaze from her sisters and blinks vacantly at Caius.

When she fails to obey his summons immediately, Caius snaps his fingers, and a heavily muscled bodyguard for the wives marches over to the dazed vampire and roughly shoves her forward. Irina stumbles, her eyelids fluttering twice as her mind stutters, _What…?_ The gray robes part before her, making a narrow passage through their condensed mass, and she treads forward, her stare returning to Tanya and Kate.

As she nears Caius, her steps slowing further as she takes in her family's severe expressions, the elder immortal comes within reach of her and lashes out with a vicious backhand. _Insubordinate wench._

Irina's head jerks sideways with the blow, and her sisters hiss through their teeth in unison, angered by this flaunted humiliation of their sibling. Regardless of what she has done, no one deserves such treatment.

A half second passes, and Irina rotates her head back towards Caius, looking up at him passively though she avows in her mind_, Will you strike me again, old one? Kill me, perhaps? Go ahead; nothing you do to me could be worse than what I have already done to myself. You will receive no more help from me._ Her slender jaw clenches, and her dulled ocher irises spark like flickering candle flames.

Glaring down at her, Caius jabs a finger across the clearing at Renesmee, somehow conveying great abhorrence in the simple motion. Jacob's muzzle wrinkles as he growls at the ancient, and Renesmee tightens her grip on the red-brown fur clasped inside her tiny hand. "This is the child you saw?" Caius questions Irina waspishly. "The one that was obviously more than human?"

The lithe blonde peers sidelong at the little girl twined around Bella's back, and a flash of memory abruptly stifles her train of thought.

_I don't know why I came._

_I want to please my sisters – to repair the damage wrought between our families – but there is no apology strong enough to bring him back to me._

_I know that he was flawed; he had broken his word, hunted humans. But I would have forgiven him. I would have helped him overcome the temptation. He could have done it. He was always a quick learner – ready to adapt, to change._

_"He was a _liar!"_ Kate had shouted. "And you would rather cling to the ghost of false love than make amends with your family!"_

_As if she knows anything about love._

_I crept along the edge of the cliff face, fully aware that only a few dozen miles to the west is my destination – the place I am most dreading to visit._

_Because of _her._ The one who lives while the one I loved is no more than ash scattered in the breeze, killed to save the human girl – human no longer – that my usually solitary cousin chose as his mate._

_It's not fair._

_I stared down at a triangular glade directly below my perch, half contemplating the sensation of leaping down, if it were possible for such a fall to end my existence._

_That was when I saw them._

_The dark-haired female I spotted first. She was standing motionless in a smaller clearing to the south of the first, and I knew, though we had never met, that this must be Edward's Bella._

_Her wide eyes connected with mine; I watched the shock of recognition light up her expression, and she started to raise her hand – as if to wave, like we were old friends._

_I felt my upper lip curl into a faint snarl, my stare narrowing, and she froze, taken aback._

_Then I heard a childlike shout, followed by a piercing howl._

_Instinctively, my head swiveled towards the larger clearing. The snarl became more pronounced on my face when I spied the huge wolf…and then I noticed the small figure at its side, clutching a full-grown buck with surprising strength for one so little._

_I leaned closer, examining every detail._

_The figure looked to be no more than a young girl dressed in a frilly cream-colored dress, her bronze curls striking a familiar chord in me._

_While I watched, wondering who she could possibly be and what she was doing in the company of the wolf and Edward's mate, her tiny rosebud mouth opened – and she sank her teeth into the buck's throat._

_Shocked agony ripped through me, shredding what remained of my rational mind._

_It's not possible. Edward…Carlisle…they wouldn't – they _couldn't –

_The newborn lifted her hands in front of her, the gesture filled with remorse, but I would have none of it._

_I showed my teeth and growled, not bothering to wait for her to form a response._

_I ran blindly through the forest, my skull vibrating with the pained realization that I had been betrayed once again by the Cullens._

_They had made themselves a creature that my mother had died trying to protect, and it would eventually destroy them all in the end. The law is absolute; there are no exceptions._

_I could feel the rift between our families growing with each mile I crossed._

_As I prepared to make the journey that would condemn those whom I had once loved, I sent one last prayer of forgiveness to my sisters. And I hoped with every fiber of my being that, one day, they would understand._

Irina tilts her head as her thoughts resume in the present, blinking at Renesmee in confusion, for it is obvious that she is markedly different from the child who had appeared in the forest on that fateful day. _I don't understand, _she ponders to herself.

Exasperated, Caius bursts out only seconds later, "Well?"

Her attention still fixed on my daughter, Irina says haltingly, "I…I'm not sure."

_You try my patience, girl._ Caius' right hand twitches, and he envisions slapping her again as he whispers in a threatening manner, "What do you mean?"

Irina's pale eyebrows lower, a thin line marring the center of her forehead as she studies Renesmee, uncertain of her course for the thousandth time since she fled to Italy all those weeks ago. "She's not the same," she concludes after a tense moment, "but I think it's the same child." She looks into Caius' enraged burgundy eyes, attempting to explain. "What I mean is, she's changed_." Which is impossible – an immortal child is frozen in whatever state they were when the change occurred. It doesn't make any sense,_ she argues internally, her gaze shifting back to the little girl. "This child is bigger than the one I saw, but –"

A loud, fuming gasp erupts from Caius, his exposed teeth glistening in the wan morning light, and Irina falls silent, taking an involuntary step backward.

Dismayed by his brother's lack of control, Aro joins him swiftly, placing a heavy hand on the white-haired vampire's shoulder. "Be composed, brother," he says in a mild voice, but I detect the undercurrent of warning – as does Caius. His snarl begins to fade as Aro goes on placatingly, "We have time to sort this out. No need to be hasty."

His face puckered into a sour expression, Caius looks away from Irina, while Aro offers her a gentle, vaguely rueful smile. "Now, sweetling," he murmurs, holding out his hand. "Show me what you're trying to say." _We will solve this puzzle once and for all._

She eyes him for a brief moment, bewildered and wary, and then carefully places her hand in Aro's papery-skinned one, meeting his misty ruby-colored eyes.

He rifles through her thoughts quickly, lingering on her memory of the unexpected meeting in the woods, and notes with a mixture of intrigue and – oddly enough, triumph – that Irina's observation was correct. The child she saw that day and the child holding onto Bella now has grown.

_Fascinating…_ Aro thinks pensively, and then his mind seems to go dark, his thoughts almost completely obscured from my ability.

In a handful of seconds, it is over. Aro drops her hand and glances at Caius, smiling faintly, as though he is an elder sibling chastising the younger with fondness. "You see, Caius?" he chides. "It's a simple matter to get what we need."

I narrow my gaze at the strange inflection in his wispy voice. Like casting a double shadow, Aro's words appear to have two meanings, yet the full import of his intent remains veiled from me. _Layers of strategy,_ my subconscious whispers, and I feel a prick of irritation. Until another section is peeled away in either of the brothers' minds, I cannot anticipate the next phase…which has been their goal from the beginning, I am sure.

Caius does not respond to his brother's statement in any way, so Aro peers fleetingly at the audience ranging across the borderline of the forest, pleased with their impatient curiosity. Pivoting on heel, he turns back to Carlisle, who has watched the entire scene unfold with cautious eyes, afraid to hope that we have gained our chance to illustrate Renesmee's unique nature.

"And so we have a mystery on our hands, it seems," Aro announces, his tone whimsical. "It would appear the child has grown. Yet Irina's first memory was clearly that of an immortal child." A secretive light glitters in his deep red irises as he employs his preferred adjective once more. "Curious."

Relief pours through Carlisle's thoughts like a cool stream of water, and the taut line of his shoulders loosens just a bit. "That's exactly what I'm trying to explain," he tells Aro, stretching out his hand again in wordless invitation.

The ancient vampire studies my father in silence for several minutes, delaying his response_. A more comprehensive account than what you can offer is required, dear Carlisle,_ Aro reflects inwardly. His polite stare flicks to my own, and a leaden weight settles in the pit of my stomach as I realize that the exchange with Irina was only pretense. I – the thoughts I have heard, everything that I have seen, and all the knowledge I have gathered from every mind on our side save one – am the true goal.

And there is no other option but for me to become an unwilling informant.

I have no choice.

Seeing the grim recognition in my icy features, Aro remarks with subtle courtesy to Carlisle, "I would rather have the explanation from someone more central to the story, my friend."

Carlisle's open palm wavers, his thoughts suddenly alarmed. _Does he mean…?_

"Am I wrong to assume that this breach was not of your making?" Aro continues mildly.

My father tries one last time to avert the potentially disastrous path we are now on. "There was no breach," he replies, his tone both pleading and hopeless.

The filmy scarlet eyes abruptly sharpen, piercing the wintry air, and Carlisle lets his hand fall to his side in defeat. "Be that as it may," Aro declares, a new, hard-edged quality to his thin voice, "I_ will_ have every facet of the truth. And the best way to get that is to have the evidence directly from your talented son." He dips his head towards me, his attention flitting between my face, Carlisle's, and the two most precious gifts I have ever received behind me. "As the child clings to his newborn mate," Aro observes, his stare probing, "I'm assuming Edward is involved."

An unspoken tumult of vehement exclamations ricochets inside my skull; Emmett lets out a spew of foul oaths, smothering the urge to voice them aloud by literally biting down on his own tongue. Amidst the mental clamor, I hear the leader of the Volturi hierarchy calling out his request for me to join him on their side of the clearing.

A quiet breath leaves my suddenly hollow chest, and I slip my hand from Bella's as I turn around, refusing to allow my eyes to focus on hers. My resolve is frail enough as it is; if I look into her deep, mesmerizing amber orbs, I will never find the strength to part from her side.

Lightly, I press a kiss on her forehead, my head swimming momentarily with the heady sweetness of freesia, and then repeat the action with our daughter. I sense Bella's wide eyes on my face, igniting my marble skin with a fire that burns from the inside out, but I deny myself the luxury of a last glimpse. Pulling away, I enter the undisturbed span of white with purposeful strides.

Carlisle watches my approach, grieved. _Forgive me, son. We should have foreseen this._

I clap him on the shoulder as I pass, hoping to convey that there is nothing to forgive. In a way, we _had _foreseen this outcome – it is the only means of demonstrating just exactly what Renesmee is and how she came into being. What I should have been able to predict is that Aro, since he has experienced the 'convenience' of my talent before, would seize any opportunity to uncover the secrets held within my mind.

As I walk from my father's side, a frightened whimper escapes from Esme, sending a stab of pain through my heart. _Oh, please…_ she begs, her inner voice poignant with desperation. _Please, God…save my family from this madness. Show mercy on us, please…_

Raising my chin, I shut out all distractions and focus on the black-haired vampire poised in front of a sea of gray, waiting for my arrival with acquisitive, triumphant eyes.

Then a high, childlike murmur chimes inside my head, nearly shattering my concentration. _How does it feel, Edward, to know that you are about to betray everyone you care for? That you serve the Volturi despite your haughty dismissal of how you are _meant_ to live?_ A tiny, smug grin curves Jane's full lips while I cross the point of no return – the invisible boundary drawn down the center of the field.

_What delicious memories you must have of your beloved Bella, _she continues to taunt, the malevolence twisting her mind far more sinister than any I have encountered in a century. _And each and every one will belong to the master. Once he has finished with you, we will destroy the child, along with your mate. They will burn on a pyre whose smoke will block out the sun itself._

Only a few yards from Aro, my waking nightmare of Bella and Renesmee consumed by the flames resurfaces in my thoughts, causing the bleached horizon to tilt at a bizarre angle, but I force my feet to keep moving in a straight line.

_Does that make you wish for death?_ Jane inquires with a cruel caricature of innocence._ I'm sure that my master will allow me to oblige you…but you will have to beg for it. Beg for death, Edward – just as your little Bella will beg as her body chars in the fire…_

A roaring noise fills my eardrums, my ribcage vibrating with a low growl, and the monster singles out her smiling face, imagining the satisfaction of ripping her apart. Like Victoria, this sadistic creature would perish at my hands, ending the threat against the core of my existence.

My upper body starts to move in an opposing direction from the rest of me, bloodlust soaking into my every pore and drowning out any sense of reason…

The reddened haze of wrath is in that instant fragmented by a musical sound that I would recognize anywhere, but is totally out of place in the current situation.

Bella's laugh rings out across the field like a peal of bells, fading quickly, but the icy touch of clarity cools the rage smoldering within my brain.

I shove Jane's internal provocations aside and come to a stop less than half a dozen steps from Aro. My chin lifts, and I look down through half-closed eyes at the dark-haired ancient, jutting out my hand as though I have deigned to favor him with a chance to see the world as I do rather than having little choice in the matter.

Eccentric as ever, Aro's eyes glitter with delight over my show of arrogance._ Proud and stubborn, are you not, young one? _he comments dotingly. He lifts two fingers, signaling Renata to back away, and she hovers an arm's length at his back, pressing her lips together worriedly.

_You should already be strewn among the dust under our feet, whelp._ Caius scowls in my direction, determining that, once the fight begins, he will order the guard to dispose of me first.

Alec reads into my stance intently, preparing to unleash his power if I attempt to harm their master, and Jane's deceitfully angelic features are contorted into a vicious sneer as she wishes for Aro to give her leave to torture not only me, but everyone on the other side of the clearing.

Still wearing an amused, blithe smile, Aro closes the distance between he and I and takes my proffered hand. His eyelids lower immediately, his shoulders bending inward as he absorbs the new information from my mind. I unconsciously mirror his posture, reliving each memory with him while listening to his reactions.

Like skimming through the pages of a book, Aro flips past the few clouded human memories I have retained and those that he had experienced when I came to Italy in March, picking up when my family was reunited with Bella.

Abstractedly interested, he reviews our preparations for defeating the newborn army created by Victoria, the rivalry between Jacob and I that had once tainted everything, and the compromise that Bella had finally persuaded me to accept.

He pauses for a moment on the aftermath of the battle – when Jane and her small force had arrived – and notes that our ruse had worked; we had kept the wolves' treaty with our family a secret from them, until now_. I should have known that they had assistance in dealing with so many newborns, _Aro thinks as the images whirl by, and I resist the impulse to bristle in indignation.

When we come upon some of the most cherished memories I possess, Aro browses through my wedding and honeymoon with vague attentiveness, operating under a semblance of discretion, but his awareness piques as he reaches the understanding that Bella and I consummated our marriage while she was still human. _Truly, Edward,_ he breathes with perverse admiration_, your self-control knows no bounds. That you were able to curb your instincts while in the throes of passion… But I digress._

He continues scrutinizing my deepest thoughts, sensing my growing agitation, and reaches the final day on Isle Esme. _Ah!_ His astonishment ripples outward as he uses my eyes to watch Bella caress the tiny bump above her hips that would become our daughter in just a few short weeks. _What is this?_

In rapt silence, Aro lets the images unfold at a more deliberate pace, sharing in my anguish while Bella withered away, her swollen belly covered with purplish bruises from the_ thing_ that I had put inside her… And then, the change: Bella's strength returned when she began consuming blood – and I realized, after hearing our baby's thoughts, that what she was carrying within her was not a monster at all, but a gift.

Reliving the violence and horror of Renesmee's birth is difficult, but I force myself to concentrate solely on Aro's reaction to keep from dwelling on the waxy, blood-flecked face of my wife as I worked to save her from death by infecting her wasted body with my venom.

_Incredible…_ the ancient marvels. _A child sired by a vampire and birthed by a human – sharing the traits of both species. If I had not witnessed it through your mind, I would never have believed that such a being could exist._

Somewhere in the far edges of my consciousness, I dimly hear a sharp voice call for silence, but I dismiss it as irrelevant. At the same time, Aro studies Renesmee's accelerated growth rate, noting the same differences as my father and I did once the process started to slow.

_Such a shame,_ he mourns an instant later, looking on as Alice discloses her vision of their arrival and then vanishes with Jasper. He combs my thoughts meticulously, searching for any hidden clues to her whereabouts, but all he discovers are my own speculations – which are ambiguous, at best.

Finally, his psyche lighting up with fascination, Aro inspects our preparations leading up to this moment. He makes note of the fact that the wolves' loyalty to us is rooted in their distinct compulsion of imprinting, yet is far more avid for information on the vampires that have increased our ranks.

The cords of muscle in my neck tighten as I clench my teeth, helpless to resist as Aro learns of the talented individuals arrayed amongst the lines of defense opposing his coven. Zafrina's illusions, Kate's electric touch, Benjamin's extraordinary control of the elements, and Bella's burgeoning shield are all exposed to his covetous gaze.

A subtle, yet massive shift takes place in the foundation of Aro's objectives, and his curiosity in regard to Renesmee – her unusual genetic structure, the rare significance of her ability – bursts forth like an explosion. He lifts his bent head, eyes snapping open; the burgundy irises reflect his wonder and circumspect mannerisms as he stares at me across the small distance separating us. His thin fingers are still curled around my palm, and he has no immediate intention of letting go. _It seems we were mistaken,_ he admits, the words tinged with contrition. _No law has been broken. _The rigid column of my spine uncoils just a bit in response. _The child is clearly something that has never existed before, except in legend. Simply incredible…_

I speak up to break off the path of another tangent from his convoluted mind, murmuring quietly, "You see?"

"Yes," Aro says, awed, a tiny smile playing along the edges of his mouth, "I see, indeed." Pleasure wells up inside his thoughts. "I doubt whether any two among gods or mortals have ever seen quite so clearly."

A faint warning tingles across my nerve endings as I contemplate the possible motives behind this statement, but I squelch the sensation. Meanwhile, a storm of disbelief rushes through the Volturi guard in light of their master's congenial tone. Jane, who seems to have crept closer while Aro and I were joined mentally, lets out a muffled growl in annoyance.

"You have given me much to ponder, young friend," the dark-haired ancient remarks, his smile widening into an expression he means to be reassuring. "Much more than I expected." _This child –_ your _child – is a creature of myth even among we who are considered fictitious by the mortal world! A marvelous mystery… _Aro's enthusiasm is effusive as he goes on. _…and her singular talent is as unique as she! Will you not allow me a moment to greet such a miracle?_

Wariness seeps into my already taut frame. In truth, we had counted on this chance – the chance for Renesmee to tell her story as only she can, offering indisputable proof that she is the creation of two worlds. The logical part of my brain consents to his request…but the part of me that awakened after my daughter's birth – the part that recognizes fatherhood as a blessing and a responsibility – wants to keep Renesmee far from Aro's earnest stare and brittle, translucent skin.

Attempting to counter my reluctance, Aro beseeches aloud, "May I meet her?" He suddenly grips my hand in both of his to add higher credence to his plea. "I never dreamed of the existence of such a thing in all my centuries. What an addition to our histories!" A delighted chuckle punctuates his exclamation.

"What is this about, Aro?" Caius barks, disapproval laced into each syllable._ No more delays! We must dispense justice on these vermin!_

With my ability as a conduit, Aro listens to his brother's venomous thoughts and sighs. _So eager for aggression,_ he comments sadly. Glancing over at the white-haired vampire, he answers in a patient voice, "Something you've never dreamed of, my practical friend. Take a moment to ponder, for the justice we intended to deliver no longer applies."

A snake's hiss fizzles through Caius' bared teeth, his expression shocked and infuriated, and he leans a half step forward into a crouch.

"Peace, brother," Aro soothes, though his pupils contract with stern warning. _We have much to ponder, dear Caius._ A series of snapshots taken from my memory flash through his mind's eye, and my frustration mounts once I discern that yet another level of strategy is shifting even as we speak, but still I cannot read its outcome.

Aro pays no heed to my disturbed line of thinking, absorbed with an almost obsessive need to address Renesmee. Peering earnestly at me, he asks again, "Will you introduce me to your daughter?"

_Daughter?_ Caius hisses in disbelief. _What trickery is this?_

Many among the guard and the horde gathered behind them mimic the white-haired ancient's surprised outburst, perturbed by the familial term Aro used in his question.

I bob my head once in hesitant compliance. Aro beams, immensely pleased, and raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to invite Bella and Renesmee over to this side of the clearing.

Striving to maintain a calm demeanor at the mere thought of having them so close to the Volturi, I pose internally, _Perhaps the meeting should take place on neutral ground as a show of good faith. Do you agree?_

His smile still in place, Aro replies generously, "I think a compromise on this one point is certainly acceptable, under the circumstance. We will meet in the middle." He releases my hand, and I immediately turn around to face my family and allies, my eyes seeking out the comforting shape of the angel who owns my soul, our little girl wrapped protectively in her slender arms.

Before I step forward, Aro loops an arm around my shoulders in casual camaraderie – though his bare wrist remains pressed against the nape of my neck. I barely smother a growl; already, he is addicted to the nearly complete omniscience that my talent provides.

_Merely a precaution, my young friend,_ he remarks in a serene tone. Sorely tempted to lash out with sarcasm, I flatten my lips into a thin line and begin walking.

Once we are three paces ahead, the entire guard flows silently in our wake like an enormous shadow. Renata follows Aro's steps with only inches between them, her thin fingers twitching as she yearns to shield her master from potential danger.

He lifts up his free hand in an idle gesture, not bothering to glance at his coven as he commands, "Hold, my dear ones. Truly, they mean us no harm if we are peaceable," he assures them.

A cacophony of dissent fills the chilled air, the Volturi's dark robes undulating faintly as feet shift in unease, eager to trail after Aro, but now ordered not to do so.

So close that the hem of her ebony cloak brushes against my right ankle, Renata whimpers, her voice fearful and colored with a Sicilian accent, "Master." She is terrified of failing in her duty to protect Aro from harm; it is, in her mind, the sole purpose of her existence.

"Don't fret, my love," he murmurs tenderly, like a mother soothing a distraught child. "All is well."

This situation is volatile enough – I cannot risk forfeiting this chance because of one misstep by an overzealous member of their coven. "Perhaps you should bring a few members of your guard with us," I bargain in a mild, reasonable tone. "It will make them more comfortable."

_An excellent suggestion,_ Aro responds while nodding in assent. Snapping his fingers twice, he calls, "Felix, Demetri."

The two vampires virtually materialize at his side – Demetri watchful and curious, Felix impatient and arrogant. Renata continues to linger at her master's back, careful not to touch him lest she disobey his instructions, but the frightened cast of her pale features diminishes some as the pair of gray-robed figures fall in step with us.

Our small party drifts to a stop in the center of the field, and Aro offers amiably, _Let's keep our numbers even, shall we?_

He intends for me to choose the two that will accompany Bella and Renesmee, but I will leave that decision to my wife – she has a knack for strategy. "Bella," I say in a slightly louder voice, watching the wind toss strands of her chocolate hair as her amber eyes bore into mine. "Bring Renesmee…and a few friends."

Her shoulders rise a little as she breathes in deeply. I can see her intense resistance to bringing Renesmee so close to Aro in every line of her slim form, but the unwavering trust in her gaze – a miracle nearly as precious as her love for me – compels her into action. With the stubborn tilt of her pointed chin that I have come to adore, she requests, "Jacob? Emmett?"

Emmett grins broadly, having been just seconds from waving his meaty hand in the air like an over-eager schoolboy, chanting _'Pick me! Pick me!'_ He strokes Rosalie's golden locks with a palm fleetingly right before moving to Bella's side.

The russet-furred wolf beside her left elbow lowers his massive head in affirmation, unable to hold back a low sigh of relief. Jacob had been quite determined to ensure that he was chosen as an escort, his promise to keep Renesmee safe driving him to do whatever is necessary.

Flanked by my favorite brother and her best friend, Bella grips Renesmee tightly against her breast and marches forward, her gaze never wavering from mine.

Another rumble of complaint swells like thunder amongst the Volturi as Jacob trots alongside our half of the summit. The wolf is an unknown, and therefore unpredictable – not to mention the repelling stench that all of them exude, alerting any vampire in the vicinity that these creatures are not to be trifled with.

Untroubled, and intellectually fascinated by the Quileutes, Aro raises his hand once again, motioning for silence. Demetri leans around Aro's opposite side to glance at me, one black eyebrow quirked in mocking good humor. "Interesting company you keep," he remarks lightly. Felix smirks in response.

Refusing to let the tracker provoke an unwelcome reaction, I fix my eyes straight ahead – locked on the center of my universe as she draws nearer – but Jacob growls very quietly, his muzzle rippling with the sound. _I don't care how tough you are, leech; I can rip you in half before you have a chance to scream._

The violence in Jacob's mind surprises me with its raw power, but I realize a fraction of a second later that such notions are his outlet for channeling his aggression. He knows that he must retain a calm, collected state of being in these next moments if we are to succeed.

Bella pauses a few yards from the Volturi and her escorts follow suit. Renesmee surveys the scene with wide, solemn brown eyes, one tiny fist clutching her mother's shirt. Spontaneously, I slip out from Aro's grasp and dart across the short distance to Bella; Emmett moves deftly aside to make room for me.

Reaching for her hand, she meets me halfway, our fingers weaving together, and I chance a brief look at Aro. He is completely unperturbed by my breach in decorum – in fact, he seems to be aware of little else except Renesmee. The intense, almost fanatical scrutiny in his hazy eyes as he stares at my daughter is…troubling.

After a brief stretch of silence – though not for me, as my head is filled with Aro's enthrallment, Demetri's tactical analysis and Felix's measured glee – a cocky grin pulls up one corner of the latter's mouth and he greets in a low undertone, "Hello again, Bella." _She still smells delicious…but in an entirely different way, _he comments to himself, savoring the floral essence of her unique scent. Unlike their last meeting, Felix sees her not as a vessel containing sweet, hot blood, but as someone to be noticed.

Although, 'notice' is a far cry from 'respect' in his mind, which is glaringly obvious as his ruby gaze wanders appreciatively over Bella's body.

A poisonous bubble of rage seethes within my chest, seeking release, but Bella curbs my tongue by straightening up, her chin tilting further as she meets Felix's stare head-on. A faint, wry smile bows her full lips, and she replies, "Hey, Felix." Her fingers squeeze my hand in warning and reassurance. She has probably guessed what the thickly built vampire is likely thinking about her, and does not want to give him the satisfaction of my loss of temper nor her cowering as she did in Volterra.

Correctly interpreting the hint of defiance in Bella's expression, Felix chuckles, and tells her, "You look good." _Delectable, actually._ "Immortality suits you."

Her smile tips to one side, and she arches her thin eyebrows, appearing to be flattered. But the biting tang of sarcasm is heavy in her voice as she returns, "Thanks so much."

"You're welcome." He eyes her again while at the same time charting Jacob's every move, and says with a dim note of regret, "It's too bad…" _…you're going to die today,_ he finishes inwardly.

My lips twitch, begging to curl over my teeth in a snarl, but I keep the impulse at bay, my thumb tracing the shape of Bella's delicate wrist. Then, as though she is capable of reading minds, Bella's mouth sobers – yet her eyes burn fiercely – and she agrees, "Yes, too bad, isn't it?"

_She is a feisty one,_ Felix remarks, tossing her a wink.

Oblivious to anything else happening around him, Aro continues to examine Renesmee, openly awed by every nuance of her appearance. She watches the ancient with a guarded expression, her knees clamping a bit tighter around Bella's waist. Almost dreamily, Aro's head slants sideways, and he breathes, "I hear her strange heart. I smell her strange scent." _Truly a marvel to behold._

He transfers his gaze, and his thoughts, to Bella, appraising her as one would a work of art being placed on the auction block. "In truth, young Bella," he murmurs, "immortality does become you most extraordinarily. It is as if you were designed for this life."

A gentle, deceptively affectionate smile wrinkles the fragile-looking skin on his face as he wonders if the potential he saw in her last spring has escalated…and if she is worth the price of acquisition.

Meanwhile, as I war with the blazing ire barely contained inside my ribcage, Bella inclines her head once in response to Aro's adulation. With the motion, his attention is drawn to the glittering diamond nestled at the base of her throat, and his eyes light up. "You liked my gift?" he questions delightedly, but his thoughts are speculating on all the possible reasons she could have for wearing the necklace.

Bella's gaze flits downward briefly, and then she allows in a placid tone, "It's beautiful, and very, very generous of you. Thank you." She adds with a self-conscious shrug, "I probably should have sent a note."

Charmed, feathery strains of laughter burst from Aro. _Such an uncommonly rational newborn – with a dry wit and gifted, besides._ "It's just a little something I had lying around," he announces, waving a hand in blasé detachment. "I thought it might complement your new face," his smile broadens, "and so it does."

Just above the slight breeze, a quiet hiss fills the air. _The master gave one of the crown jewels to that…that…filth?_ Jane's white, livid face shines like a beacon from beneath the cowl of her dark cloak, and her small hands curve into talons at her sides, a wash of fear spiraling through her. Suddenly, she begins to consider the possibility that Bella may become a rival for Aro's favor among the guard.

Hearing the muted noise of outrage, Bella shifts her weight to the left and peers over the ancient immortal's shoulder expressionlessly.

Jane glares at her without apology, the feral sneer shaping her features displaying the monster that resides within the childlike façade, and the blackest hatred pollutes her mind as she swears, _I will see this one in pieces before the day is out._ Her thin body starts to lean forward – but Alec's hand fastens around her wrist, his crimson eyes radiating caution.

Long used to his prized catalyst's bouts of tantrum, Aro politely clears his throat, wishing to continue with the matter at hand, and Bella's eyes snap back to his. "May I greet your daughter, lovely Bella?" His question fairly oozes saccharine friendliness.

Like a soldier preparing to enter battle, Bella adopts an unreadable mask that completely veils her countenance and takes two careful steps forward, making no attempt to relinquish my hand from her abruptly tense grasp. So I move with her, and Aro meets us, beaming down at the bronze-haired phenomenon that turns a little further in Bella's arms to see the black-haired vampire.

"But she is exquisite," Aro marvels softly. "So like you and Edward." Raising his voice for the benefit of the spectators arrayed across the clearing, he speaks directly to the little girl, well aware that she is far more intelligent than her physical appearance suggests. "Hello, Renesmee."

Her startled face whips toward Bella's, seeking confirmation that she should reply. Her mother nods encouragingly. Squaring her tiny shoulders, Renesmee addresses the ancient with pronounced maturity. "Hello, Aro." Her chiming soprano voice rings throughout the eerie quiet, and nearly every vampire in both the guard and their audience reels in shock at the sound. To his credit, Aro remains smiling, but his burgundy eyes grow wide in bewildered captivation.

Loathe to display any interest but needing an explanation, Caius growls frustratedly, "What is it?"

Not removing his mesmerized stare from Renesmee, Aro declares in confidence, "Half mortal, half immortal. Conceived so, and carried by this newborn while she was still human."

Disbelieving, Caius jeers, "Impossible." _That sort of crossbreed can never become reality. It is a myth._

Twin flames ignite in Aro's ruby-colored irises as his brother's mistrust sinks in, but amusement dominates his expression and he asks, still looking at my daughter, "Do you think they've fooled me, then, brother?"

Then Caius – unbending, relentless – flinches, his shoulders curving inward as though he is expecting a blow.

Aro goes on, his tone calm and mildly entertained, "Is the heartbeat you hear a trickery as well?"

Like a rebuked child, the white-haired ancient scowls and looks aside, well aware that even after millennia together, Aro could just as easily dismiss him from the Volturi court – a dismissal that ends with pain and fire.

"Calmly and carefully, brother." Though it would seem like he is conversing only with Caius, Aro is cleverly including all those listening in as he says with growing excitement, "I know well how you love your justice, but there is no justice in acting against this unique little one for her parentage. And there is so much to learn, so much to learn! I know you don't have my enthusiasm for collecting histories, but be tolerant with me, brother, as I add a chapter that stuns me with its improbability." He shakes his head a little in amazement. "We came expecting only justice and the sadness of false friends, but look what we have gained instead! A bright, new knowledge of ourselves, our possibilities."

Aglow in the aftermath of his own revelation, Aro offers his hand to Renesmee. _Now…show me what you can do, little one._

She, of course, has other plans. Leaning towards him, Renesmee presses her fingertips to Aro's pale, hollowed cheek, and each vivid memory she holds flows into his mind.

The process lasts only a few minutes; Aro has had centuries of practice in siphoning another's thoughts, and Renesmee's talent simplifies the method immensely.

In the end, he is more impressed with the little girl than ever, and a broad grin stretches across his face. "Brilliant," he sighs. The flickering image of Renesmee skipping down the hewn stone halls of the Volterra fortress dances through Aro's mind before it is quickly swallowed by darkness, and my jaw trembles with the friction of my teeth snapping together. This is what I had been afraid of: that Aro would come to see Renesmee as a rare commodity and therefore endeavor to secure a place for her within his coven.

Lowering her small arm, Renesmee settles back into Bella's embrace, her expression grave. "Please?" she asks somberly.

Privy to her deepest fears, Aro gazes at her tenderly and vows, "Of course I have no desire to harm your loved ones, precious Renesmee."

But in his head – that twisted, convoluted mass of ambitions and bloodlust and thirst for supremacy – his intentions are, in that instant, laid bare as bleached bones in the dead of night. He will not leave this place without that which he desires, and the list now includes my wife and daughter, Benjamin, Kate, Zafrina, and any other vampire possessing an ability among us.

There is no limit to what he is prepared to do in order to achieve his own ends.

A grinding noise reverberates in my ears, dimly joined by a sharp hiss from somewhere at the back of our defensive lines. _Liar!_ Maggie shrieks internally.

Siobhan lays a restraining hand on the younger vampire's rigid shoulder, her narrowed eyes focused on the small group in the center of the field.

"I wonder," Aro murmurs to himself, ignoring the furious reactions his statement prompted, and his faraway gaze drifts over to the red-brown wolf that had inched closer during Renesmee's introduction and is now poised beside Bella, his tail swinging back and forth in agitation, the hair beginning to rise on the back of his neck. _These strange, exceptionally powerful mortals are a great asset; honor-bound to uphold their treaty with once sworn enemies and imbued by their ancestors with the strength to dispatch any vampire. But _this _one… _he studies Jacob keenly._ He is compelled by much more than duty to stand beside the Cullens._ The memory that he obtained from me of Renesmee lying asleep in Jacob's arms flashes across his mind's eye._ Such devotion for one so young. I wonder…_

The vision that swims into view is at once appalling and maddening. Surrounded by the concave walls of the castle turret, Aro and his brothers sit on their thrones, the walls lined with a host of shadowed figures, though I spot Bella's face, and mine, and Renesmee's, among the masses.

And sitting at the base of the dais, thick leather collars circling their throats like the jackals that would guard the pharaohs of Egypt, are the wolves that I have come to trust with my life – with my family's lives.

In Aro's reverie, they are reduced to nothing more than _animals,_ set to serve their masters.

My desire to uphold diplomacy during this exchange abruptly evaporates, along with my already fading tolerance. Harshly, I retort, my voice rough with fury, "It doesn't work that way."

Alerted by my hostile attitude, Bella and Renesmee turn to look at me, puzzled frowns on their lips, and Emmett subtly changes his position, his knees bending a little as his arms spread out from his sides.

_What doesn't work?_ Jacob peers quizzically in my direction with one large black eye, and then realizes a beat later that Aro is clearly staring at him.

"Just an errant thought," Aro replies with easy flippancy, yet his attention shifts from an increasingly frustrated Jacob to the lines of wolves gathered on either side of our witnesses. _But they are here to support you because of your daughter, are they not? _he poses, studying the organized layout of their ranks. _This Jacob belongs to your Renesmee so completely that he has no choice but to defend her, and the others follow his lead as Alpha._

He knows too much about them now – the vital knowledge stolen from my thoughts and Renesmee's – but I knew that this could happen, and had warned both Jacob and Sam beforehand. Of course, neither of them was very worried – the running standard among the pack, it seems.

_A great asset indeed…_ Aro considers once again. The designs he is beginning to create in regard to the wolves and his perception of my family's relationship with them are so warped that I pull away a bit from his mind in disgust.

Shaking my head ferociously, I interject, "They don't_ belong_ to us, Aro. They don't follow our commands." Jacob's ears flatten against his skull while I speak, a growl slowly rising from his barrel chest. "They're here because they want to be," I finish in certainty.

The growl echoes with brutal clarity over the white landscape, and Jacob rakes his front claws across the packed snow. _We don't belong to _anyone._ We fight because it's the right thing to do. …And I fight for Nessie. _His head moves infinitesimally towards her, and Aro notices at once.

"They seem quite attached to you, though," the ancient comments in a reflective tone. "And your young mate and your…family. _Loyal,"_ he whispers the term admiringly.

I glare hard at his wistful expression, contending, "They're committed to protecting human life, Aro. That makes them able to coexist with us, but hardly with you. Unless you're rethinking your lifestyle." I lift an eyebrow in cynical suspicion.

He chuckles softly, the noise genuine in its merriment. _I do so enjoy our philosophical discussions, Edward. You are your father's son,_ he offers as praise, and reiterates aloud, "Just an errant thought. You well know how that is." Aro gazes at me fondly; I half expect him to shake a finger in affectionate scolding, as Esme is prone to do. "None of us can entirely control our subconscious desires." The dream of wolves acting as sentries for their stronghold flits through his mind again, and the fierce yearning laced into his thoughts leaves no doubt in my opinion that Aro will not give up as easily as he would have us believe.

A revolted grimace contorts my mouth, and I answer him bluntly, "I do know how that is. And I also know the difference between that kind of thought and the kind with a purpose behind it." Narrowing my eyes, I state in no uncertain terms, "It could never work, Aro."

Jacob's massive head rotates toward me, and a low whine fills the air as he demands,_ Just tell me what the _hell_ is going on here! What's he thinking about us?_ Several of the other pack members echo his question, all of them on edge as they wait for my answer.

Fully aware that the spark I am about to ignite could set off an explosive chain of events, I mutter under my breath to Jacob, "He's intrigued with the idea of…" I snarl quietly "…guard dogs."

Icy silence bathes the clearing for a whole second as the pack's psyche goes blank with shock. Then, an enraged chorus of howls, roars, and snapping teeth ruptures across the field.

_Enough!_ Sam orders, barking loudly in emphasis, and the furious bellows of the wolves are quickly cut off, leaving a foreboding stillness in its wake.

Aro smiles, laughing as though thoroughly entertained, but a pang of displeasure flavors his mind, and he voices his thought for all to hear. "I suppose that answers that question. _This _lot has picked its side." _Perhaps a few can be spared from the slaughter. _He glances sidelong at the russet-colored wolf baring his fangs at him_. It may aid our cause to show mercy to the livestock, and strike a bargain with them over the child._

Whether effected by Aro's referral to the pack as 'livestock' or his plan to use Renesmee as leverage, the white-hot flame of anger that I have struggled to control since the Volturi arrived burns through its prison and incinerates what remains of my restraint. Hissing ruthlessly, I feel my body pull itself into a low crouch, leaning towards Aro as every instinct I possess urges me to attack.

A strong yet slender set of fingers wraps around my forearm, holding me in place, and just as the impulse to shake myself free surges forth, another considerably smaller hand clutches the sleeve of my shirt.

Renesmee's fear pummels my senses like a tidal wave, banking the fire just enough for reason to trickle back into my mind.

Other details begin to take shape in my awareness. Demetri and Felix are perched directly in front of me, crouching defensively, and Aro looks on with an empty expression. At my side, Emmett braces himself for a fight, his stance the same as the one he uses when stalking a bear. And Jacob is perfectly balanced on his huge paws, the hooked claws disappearing into the snow – ready to leap in front of Renesmee at a moment's notice.

_This display of violence is pointless._ Aro snaps his fingers briskly, and the two guards flanking him relax their tense postures, Felix far more unwilling than his counterpart.

Emmett glances at me from the corner of his eye. _Your call, brother,_ he sends.

After the barest of deliberations, I straighten up in one fluid motion, and he emulates the movement. Jacob watches us revert to our former positions, and though he is strongly opposed to the idea, he follows our lead and arranges his vast frame into a less aggressive pose.

"So much to discuss. So much to decide," Aro announces unexpectedly, his tone businesslike and his line of thinking shrewdly intricate. Sketching a courteous bow, his filmy red irises dancing across each of our faces, he says, "If you and your furry protector will excuse me, my dear Cullens, I must confer with my brothers."

Just as he concludes his sentence, Aro raises a pale hand and signals the guard to join him.

Seeing as he left us no other option but to retreat, I latch onto Bella's hand and Emmett's elbow, tugging them with me while I back away, my gaze sweeping the lines of gray for any threat.

Lingering at the end of our withdrawal, Jacob growls at the advancing force, his fur standing on end all along his shoulders and spine. He shows his teeth to Aro, swearing inside his head, and as the space separating him from us widens, Renesmee anxiously grabs onto the tufted tip of his tail.

We reach the relative safety of our side of the clearing as the flood of hooded figures encircles Aro. Now, only a distance of fifty yards – a simple gap for any vampire to cross – isolates us from the Volturi.

I release my hold on Emmett, but grip Bella's palm tightly, concentrating on the unfolding scene as Caius stomps furiously over to his brother. Aro views his approach with mild dispassion, which is strange, for Caius' outburst earlier had cracked the dark-haired ancient's benevolent façade.

I exhale sharply as a swift rush of insight drowns out all previous thought.

_This _is the next layer in their strategy.

Whatever elaborate orchestration the Volturi are setting the stage for, it is merely another device to help them accomplish their goals.

Caught in suspension between an unspeakable fate and the fragile web of hope for eternity, I cling to the heaven that came down and changed my black existence into paradise, the faith I have found in her promise comforting me as this endless of days stretches on.

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**Author's Note:** The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 679-701.

The two characters that altered my view of them so completely through this chapter are Irina and Jane.

Irina's story needed to be told, and seeing the defining moment of her mistaking Renesmee as an immortal child through her eyes was an incredible experience. Quite seriously, it just…happened.

And Jane… I hardly know where to begin. She has always instilled deep loathing within me – a character you love to hate – but she literally took over part of this chapter with her mental taunting of Edward. After the words appeared, I sat back in shock and thought to myself: _She is so_ evil. _And she scares me._

On a different note, I want to say THANK YOU to everyone who nominated _Metamorphosis_ for the **Bellie Awards** and the **Indie TwiFic Awards**! I am so honored and grateful.

I realize that my story is up against some heavy hitters (which means they are fabulous stories) for the Bellies in the category **Canon Fic That's Better Than Canon ***cough-cough* _Edward's Eclipse_ and _Dark Side of the Moon_ *cough-cough* but if anyone would like to vote for _Metamorphosis_, I would really appreciate it. The voting for the **Bellie Awards** begins on July 15. Just head over to the website: thecatt dot net.

As for the **Indie TwiFic Awards**, _Metamorphosis_ is up for **Best Canon Work In Progress**. The first round of voting starts this Wednesday, July 8, and goes until July 12. More details are posted on the awards website: theindietwificawards dot com.

Again, thank you all so very much for your encouragement and support. _Metamorphosis_ exists and thrives because of each and every one of you.


	19. Contrivances

**Chapter Notes:** Writing this chapter was like running a marathon. At times, I felt exhausted from all the emotions saturating the many incidents that continue to build toward the final act.

I warn you all in advance that the chapter seriously beat me up, psychologically speaking, and it does end a bit…abruptly. But I hope that maybe I've contributed more suspense and action for those who found the original text to be not quite what they expected in regard to this confrontation with the Volturi.

And for those who, like me, were thoroughly enthralled by this 'verbal chess match', I hope that I've added another dimension to the story line.

Enjoy.

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Thirsting for the cruel triumph of our slaughter with an animalistic ferocity, Caius faces off against Aro like a viper poised to strike, his nostrils flaring in rage.

"How can you abide this infamy?" he spits venomously, his thin white fingers curled into talons next to the folds of his night-black cloak. "Why do we stand here impotently in the face of such an outrageous crime, covered by such a ridiculous deception?"

Each word rings out with blatant accusation, and though Caius is too furious to notice, Aro's burgundy eyes narrow slightly in warning.

Nevertheless, the outwardly calm ancient tucks his hands into the sleeves of his robe and answers, "Because it's all true. Every word of it." He nods in the direction of our assembled lines, pointing out in an oddly docile tone, "See how many witnesses stand ready to give evidence that they have seen this miraculous child grow and mature in just the short time they've known her." He makes a sweeping gesture from one side of my family's supporters to the other. "That they have felt the warmth of the blood that pulses in her veins."

While Aro is speaking, Caius jerks a bit when his brother uses the term _'witnesses'._ Blocking out all other voices – verbal and mental – I latch onto the white-haired vampire's mind, watching his expression intensely as a stony mask settles over his irate features, and then he glances at the throng gathered at the forest's edge. _These children were easily convinced of a need for justice, but they could turn on us in an instant. Already the seeds of doubt have been sown among them._

He eyes the mismatched crowd, noting the bowed heads drawn together in whispered debates, the confusion mirrored on nearly every immortal face, and a trickle of apprehension weaves into his thoughts. _A stronger validation is needed. Something that will restore a sense of dignity to this embarrassment and seal the Cullens' fate._

A brooding frown wrinkles his papery skin, a thousand half-formed notions racing through his mind at such a frenetic pace that my concentration begins to waver. From the corner of my eye, I risk a quick look at Bella.

The delicate planes of her heart-shaped face are set in an almost severe expression, and her amber irises glow with intense focus. But although she seems to be staring at Caius, her gaze is strangely distant – as if she is seeing something beyond what is happening right in front of us.

_What are you thinking?_ I ask her silently, but my curiosity is abruptly stifled by Caius' declaration.

"The werewolves."

Flickering images of a full moon hovering behind a hazy wash of clouds – of matted fur coated with blood, gleaming wetly in the dim light – of ragged claws and teeth and faces that are not quite human yet not quite wolf – surface in his mind's eye_. I will not allow this pestilence to befoul the earth any longer,_ Caius seethes to himself, and I struggle mightily to hold back a grin. In his desperate effort to bring another charge against my family, he fails to see the utter illogicality of the claim.

Recognizing the other ancient's error, Aro grimaces in disappointment and mutters, "Ah, brother…"

"Will you defend that alliance, too, Aro?" Caius says loudly, ignoring his brother's plea. "The Children of the Moon have been our bitter enemies from the dawn of time. We have hunted them to near extinction in Europe and Asia." He stabs a hooked fingernail at my father without breaking away from Aro's gaze, sneering, "Yet Carlisle encourages a familiar relationship with this enormous infestation – no doubt in an attempt to overthrow us. The better to protect his warped lifestyle," he adds, his voice practically choking with malice.

_You disgrace yourself, Caius,_ Aro moans inwardly, covering his fluttering eyelids with a hand.

I clear my throat, relishing the moment to wipe that superior expression from Caius' thin face, and he spins around to glare at me, promising my death with each thought.

"Caius, it's the middle of the day," I remark, motioning with an open palm towards the milky, cloud-covered sky. Then I wave that same hand at Jacob, whose black eyes look on with keen interest, and point out as tactfully as I am able to given the circumstances, "These are not Children of the Moon, clearly. They bear no relation to your enemies on the other side of the world."

Lips contorting around his bared teeth, Caius levels a deadly glare at Renesmee and snarls, "You breed mutants here." _She, like your foul-smelling pets, taints the very air with each breath. And the stain of her existence, and theirs, will be scrubbed clean from this planet – as a disease is purged from the body._

Under the ancient's murderous stare, Renesmee locks her small arms around Bella's neck, but meets his ruby eyes with reckless bravery. At the same time, a growl churns inside my chest, clawing its way up my throat.

I clench my jaw to keep the sound at bay, knowing that Caius only wants to provoke me into making a rash mistake, and once I am certain that I can respond in a sensible manner, I allow my mouth to open. "They aren't even werewolves," I announce to Caius, having discerned as much from both his and Aro's memories of the centuries-long feud between the Volturi and the Children of the Moon. Then I offer coolly, "Aro can tell you all about it if you don't believe me."

Bella and Jacob share a puzzled glance. Reading the unspoken question in her wide eyes, the red-brown wolf rolls its massive shoulders – a passable imitation of a shrug – and thinks, _You got me. All the tribe's stories called us werewolves, so I figured we were just different from the myths. Sort of like how you guys are not the same as traditional vampires._ His ears flick back and forth in quick bursts, unconsciously reacting to the ripple of bewilderment spreading through the pack in light of my statement.

Irritated, Caius whirls sideways to face Aro as the black-haired vampire slowly lifts his hand from his eyes and rebukes unhappily, "Dear Caius, I would have warned you not to press this point if you had told me your thoughts."

The two stare one another down in the infinitesimal pause that follows; Caius, predictably, is the first to waver. Aro goes on as though nothing had occurred, explaining with belied interest, "Though the creatures think of themselves as werewolves, they are not. The more accurate name for them would be shape-shifters. The choice of a wolf form was purely chance. It could have been a bear or a hawk or a panther when the first change was made." He nods toward Jacob, whose snout quivers faintly with a suppressed growl despite his curiosity in the ancient's observation of his people. "These creatures truly have nothing to do with the Children of the Moon. They have merely inherited this skill from their fathers. It's genetic – they do not continue their species by infecting others the way true werewolves do." Aro raises his eyebrows a fraction at his brother, waiting for a response.

A storm cloud of resentment and frustration swiftly darkens Caius' sharp-edged features. He had not considered the idea that one of his own would successfully undermine this strategy, and the acrid sting of betrayal twists his rigid mouth for a moment. Then, he grounds out in a terse voice, "They know our secret."

Beside Emmett, Rosalie snorts under her breath. _He doesn't know when to quit, _she criticizes derisively.

Agreeing with my sister's scathing remark, I prepare to speak – but Aro answers before I can draw a breath. "They are creatures of our supernatural world, brother," he tells Caius in a wispy, even tone. "Perhaps even more dependant upon secrecy than we are; they can hardly expose us." He tilts his head ever so slightly, a ghostly smile touching his lips, but the translucent skin around his eyes tightens as he murmurs, "Carefully, Caius. Specious allegations get us nowhere."

Staring hard at the benign immortal, Caius realizes that Aro is wordlessly advising him to cease dancing around the issue and seek another avenue towards victory. The white-haired vampire inhales deeply through his nose, striving for calm, and gives his brother a slow nod.

They hold each other's eyes for several minutes in a type of silent communication that has been refined through the many centuries of the Volturi's existence, and I bite back a hiss of aggravation when I examine both their minds and discover that they have reverted to archaic Etruscan – the one world language in which my translating capabilities are decidedly lacking.

But the multi-layered thoughts of an immortal are not limited to fully formed sentences. Flashes of hazy images – an odd combination of my family's faces, our allies, bright yellow-orange flames and the guard's shadowy cloaks covering the whitened field – resonate from Caius and Aro, though it is clear from the hungering cruelty in the former's mind that he does not share his brother's desire to preserve their reputable standing as the guardians of our species' livelihood.

Suddenly, in a voice that splinters the wintry air like the dangerous cracking of ice on the river, Caius declaims, "I want to talk to the informant." His piercing crimson glare fixes on Irina, frozen in anguish just a few yards away.

She is completely unaware of anything outside her own tormented psyche. _I was such a fool,_ she wails to herself, the mental cries louder than any other mind in the clearing_. How could I have sentenced my family to death because of a single misunderstanding? I should have known that Tanya and Kate would stand beside the Cullens… Oh, my sisters, please forgive me, I beg you. I never meant for things to turn out this way. I thought that – I only wanted to –_

"Irina." Caius utters her name like a curse, a brief smattering of Italian weaving through the indecipherable commentary inside his brain. _Vieni qui adesso, tu inutile disgraziata._

Startled, the lithe blonde reflexively turns in his direction and then blanches, her deep ocher eyes widening with anxiety. Wearing a scornful expression, Caius snaps his fingers at her and Irina trips over to his side, jittery and frightened.

The ruthlessly callous ancient peers down at her with a heavy-lidded gaze, enjoying her obvious dread – while Aro looks on emotionlessly, his face as blank as Marcus', who remains lost in the eerie realm between dreams and reality.

After a tense, drawn out portion of a second, Caius speaks. "So you appear to have been quite mistaken in your allegations," he comments in a deceptively smooth tone, as though delivering a mild reprimand to a small child caught in an act of misbehavior.

Tanya leans forward, her breath catching as she worries, _Does he mean to punish her?_

Kate mirrors her posture, her gaze locked on their wayward sister.

"I'm sorry," Irina whispers huskily, but her attention flickers from Caius to her family and back again. "I should have made sure of what I was seeing. But I had no idea…" she trails off, waving a trembling hand towards Bella and Renesmee.

"Dear Caius," Aro surprisingly inserts, "could you expect her to have guessed in an instant something so strange and impossible?" He seems bewildered by the other vampire's line of reasoning…yet I know for a fact that he can be a very convincing actor. "Any of us would have made the same assumption," he remarks in quiet frankness.

Vexed by the interruption, Caius gestures for silence and counters in a sharp, bristly voice, "We all know you made a mistake. I meant to speak of your motivations."

My suspicion increases tenfold at this new manipulation of events. Shifting my stare to Irina, I wonder how Caius intends to further their schemes through her while she frowns uneasily, confused by his words. "My motivations?" she echoes after a moment.

"Yes," Caius replies, satisfaction laced into each syllable, "for coming to spy on them in the first place." The faint grin curving his thin lips is reminiscent of a cat cornering a mouse.

Irina flinches as he says _'spy'_, her pale eyebrows coming together to form a lattice of anguished lines on her forehead. _I thought that my intentions were honorable when I left home…to make peace with what had happened, and repair the bonds between our families…_ A quiver races down her slight frame. _But I have led us all down the road to hell instead,_ she determines bleakly, the misery flavoring her thoughts leading me to believe that perhaps she is truly sorry for what her actions have wrought.

While the triumphant glint in his deep red irises sharpens into something far more dangerous, Caius prompts Irina, "You were unhappy with the Cullens, were you not?"

Thinned traces of loss, betrayal, and fury entwine with Irina's self-recrimination, and she turns her head to look at Carlisle with dulled, grief-stricken eyes. "I was," she mumbles, quickly lowering her gaze once she detects the steadfast empathy in my father's expression.

"Because…?" Caius pushes her, his right hand disappearing into the sleeve of his robe, curling around some unknown object concealed there. His thoughts reveal nothing except a growing confidence in what he is seeking to accomplish with this interrogation.

Shrinking into herself, a curtain of silver-blonde hair hides Irina's face from view as she admits in the barest whisper, "Because the werewolves killed my friend. And the Cullens wouldn't stand aside and let me avenge him."

"The shape-shifters," Aro amends helpfully, oblivious to her pain.

My sense of incredulity is severely overtaxed to react in any way other than shifting my eyes to the black-haired ancient for a half second, wondering – as I had in Italy months ago – how a being that resembles a human, that strives to be portrayed as a representative of benevolence and wise leadership, can be so completely devoid of any shred of humanity.

_Now is not the time to argue semantics,_ Caius grumbles, and quells his annoyance in order to encapsulate aloud, "So the Cullens sided with the _shape-shifters_ against our own kind – against the friend of a friend, even." He raises his sharp chin arrogantly, his gaze sweeping across our lines as though daring one of us to object.

A low noise somewhere between a snort and a growl rumbles against the back of my throat. Caius is hoping to prosecute my family with any charge that he can find, and Irina's grudge against the wolves has provided him with the chance to manufacture an offense for the Volturi to cast judgment upon.

Irina stiffens, recognizing that the ancient is using her like a pawn on a chessboard – not powerful by any means compared to others, but effective nonetheless in furthering their strategy. Still, she answers truthfully, "That's how I saw it."

It is clear from the expectant look on his thin face that Caius is waiting for her to say more, but Irina presses her lips together stubbornly, lengthening the icy silence until he is forced to prompt, "If you'd like to make a formal complaint against the shape-shifters – and the Cullens for supporting their actions – now would be the time." The corners of his mouth drift upwards ever so slightly into a malicious smile.

All eyes shift to the willowy blonde, the sudden balance point for this precarious confrontation, and as if she feels the weight of each stare, Irina's shoulders quake while she sucks in a deep breath. Cheeks ashen, the bruise-like hollows around her eyes seem to enhance the flinty sharpness of her tawny irises, and she lifts her chin, the ramrod-straight posture of her slim body like that of a soldier heading into battle.

Meeting Caius' cruel stare unflinchingly, Irina pledges in her mind, _Do what you will to me, old one, but I shall not give you what you want. I have one chance to correct my mistake, and I'm going to take it._ "No," her defiant reply echoes across the field, "I have no complaint against the wolves, or the Cullens."

Disturbed, I notice that the tiny smile has not waned on Caius' face. His right hand vanishes from view once again, the muscles of his arm contracting slightly beneath the heavy fabric of his cloak, and he continues to watch Irina with bland attentiveness.

"You came here to destroy an immortal child," she goes on, her voice gaining strength and resolve. "No immortal child exists. This was my mistake, and I take full responsibility for it. But the Cullens are innocent, and you have no reason to still be here." Her gaze flits briefly to our side of the clearing, lingering for the most part on her anxious sisters as she murmurs sincerely, "I'm so sorry."

A flicker of movement catches my eye. Caius has withdrawn his hand from his robe, and his fingers are clenched tightly around a flash of coppery metal. In his head, there is an uncanny, disquieting silence, broken up by snatches of incomplete thought and fragmented images tinted with red-orange light.

Meanwhile, Irina turns to address the witnesses peering around the imposing gray mass of the guard, her tone earnest. "There was no crime. There's no valid reason for you to continue here."

As she appeals to the bewildered crowd, Caius lifts the object in his fist high into the air. Later, I would discern that the burnished metal is carved with dozens of archaic symbols, its edges inlaid with beaten shapes of gold and silver. But at this moment, all I know is that a signal has been delivered, and we can do nothing but watch in horrified disbelief.

Irina is engulfed by a trio of hulking smoke-colored robes, her mind only beginning to register surprise before a searing white pain explodes within my perception and her mental voice is snuffed out like a candle.

She didn't even have time to scream.

Earsplitting screeches cleave through the wintry air for less than a second as the guards methodically rip another immortal apart, stacking the remains into a makeshift pyre, and then Caius glides forward, swift as a passing shadow.

With a high-pitched shriek, the center of the huddle erupts into a fireball, shooting a flurry of glowing sparks and yellow-white flames into the colorless overcast sky. The three hooded figures back away from the inferno and return to their places in the formation, completely unfazed by the destruction of a life.

Yet Caius remains beside the smoldering blaze, his thumb clicking a small knob on the side of the metallic object, and the roar of the fire lessens, a plume of sickly-sweet violet smoke rising above the field.

Gasps break out from the rabble hovering near the tree line behind the Volturi, but there is no sound whatsoever among us – no exclamations, no sudden breaths – not even a remotely coherent thought. Then, Renesmee shudders in Bella's arms and buries her face in the crook of her neck, the realization of what has transpired sinking fully into a mind that is so very innocent despite its inherent knowledge.

His expression illuminated by the fiery gleam of Irina's charred corpse, Caius' hollow cheekbones and sunken eyes make him appear almost skeletal, and he smiles over at us pitilessly. _"Now_ she has taken full responsibility for her actions," he declares in cold triumph, his crimson eyes drifting toward Tanya and Kate, who are staring at the blaze with identical looks of shocked devastation.

_Come,_ he taunts internally as their dual topaz glares lock onto him, the horror fading into uncontrollable, primal rage. _Avenge your sister. If you can. You will all be joining her very soon._

If the scale tips against us – if we instigate this fight on the basis of revenge – we all die.

Caius knows this, and now, so do I.

Several things happen at the same time, creating a jumbled, chaotic skirmish that my brain struggles to compartmentalize even as it occurs.

"Stop them!" I shout, while Tanya lets out a howl of raw fury and coils to spring, her thoughts bathed in the red haze of bloodlust.

I manage to clamp a hand around her forearm to keep her in place, and as she starts to twist from my grasp, snarling, Carlisle imprisons her in the circle of his arms. Holding her to him while she bucks wildly, spitting and growling like a wounded lioness, my father tries to reach the sentient mind smothered beneath the anguish. "It's too late to help her," he breathes desperately into her ear. "Don't give him what he wants!"

Simultaneously with Tanya's attempted retaliation, Kate emits a strangled wail and takes a step forward, her hands raised to electrocute the white-haired immortal until he is a smoking pile of ash – when Rosalie pulls her back, struggling to secure the other vampire in a headlock.

Reacting on instinct, a current ripples across Kate's skin and Rose falls to the ground with a startled whimper, her limbs quivering with spasms from the force of the shock.

Emmett lunges at Kate immediately, grabbing her shoulder and flinging her backwards before the electricity paralyzes him as well, and he stumbles to his knees, swearing.

A half second later, Kate staggers to her feet. Clumps of snow stick to her tangled cornsilk hair, her cheeks and neck, and the expression on her face distorts her lovely features into an inhuman mask of vengeance.

She rolls back onto her haunches –

In a blur of motion, Garrett leaps forward and tackles Kate, driving them both into the powdery snow. Aware that she will inevitably loose her ability on him, he tries to compensate by wrapping his strong arms around hers, pinning them to her sides, and grasps his own wrists in front of her torso.

Too far gone into the disorienting blackness of wrath, Kate unleashes a fierce jolt of power, snarling as she wriggles in his hold. Garrett's eyes roll back, his lean body convulsing with pain, but he does not let go.

Thrashing madly, Kate shocks him again, and her bare skin melts the snow into tiny droplets that glitter on her face and eyelashes like the tears of grief that she cannot shed. Determined yet barely conscious, the rangy nomad refuses to release his grip, but he is waging a losing battle.

"Zafrina!" I yell over my shoulder.

Her almond-shaped ruby eyes blink once in compliance, and a curtain of darkness instantly falls on the Denali sisters, momentarily stunning them into reason.

Kate, turned toward our side of the clearing, her cheek pressed into the frozen ground, weakens in her struggle for freedom. Her keening shrieks transform into low moans, and the dilated pupils of her gold eyes are unfocused, staring blankly in one direction. Ripples of electricity skitter up and down her slender frame – aftershocks from the blast she had set off just moments ago – yet somehow Garrett maintains his grasp.

Tanya ceases to fight Carlisle's restraining arms, though her thoughts are filled with deadly hatred, and she tosses back her strawberry-blonde mane, hissing through her teeth, "Give me my sight back."

Zafrina glances sidelong at me in wordless question, and I shake my head imperceptibly, not convinced that either Tanya or Kate would have the control to see the flames licking at their sister's remains and not react with violence.

Garrett and Kate are still tussling in the snow. His feeble attempts to lock their legs together continue to fail as she shocks him every time, blinded by the Amazon vampire's illusion but single-minded in her need for revenge.

Abruptly, Bella inhales a sharp breath. The sound is so quiet that I scarcely hear it, but every nuance of my being is obsessively attuned to her, and from the corner of my eye, I watch her gaze focus intently on the pair lying at our feet.

Then, the white-hot current racing through Garrett is cut off, and he quickly recovers, tightening his embrace around Kate. At the same time, her sight is restored, and she writhes with increased vigor, tendrils of her blonde hair beginning to stand on end from the static electricity generated by her gift.

Garrett rolls swiftly onto his side, wedging Kate's thrashing legs between his own, and whispers with surprising gentleness, "If I let you up, will you knock me down again, Katie?"

She snarls, throwing her head back in an effort to jar his skull, but he twists his neck sideways to avoid a collision. The threatening noise in her throat dies, and her breath hitches as she resumes struggling.

I look at the two of them for a moment while my brain is a whirlwind of astonishment, confusion, and suspicion. Working hard to keep the frown from my expression, I peer fleetingly at Bella once again, asking myself if she is using her shield to protect Garrett from Kate's ability – and also wondering how that is even possible, because the application of her gift is nowhere near that level of proficiency.

I have no doubt that she would reach her full potential with time and practice, but she told me herself just days ago that it takes every shred of concentration she has to extend her shield only a few feet around her – like a bubble – to include one or two other minds.

Could she truly have mastered her talent enough to protect one vampire from another when they are so close physically? What other explanation is there? And why would she not tell me what she can do?

While I try to rationalize this strange turn of events, Carlisle mutters with rapid urgency, "Listen to me, Tanya, Kate. Vengeance doesn't help her now. Irina wouldn't want you to waste your lives this way." _That poor child…_ he mourns silently, even as he goes on. "Think about what you're doing. If you attack them, we all die," he says with grim certainty.

A stifled sob chokes out of Tanya, and she slumps against my father, her eyes falling closed in sorrow_. Oh, Irina… Irina, môj sestra…_ She covers her mouth with a hand, shoulders quaking, and I withdraw from her thoughts out of respect for her grief, as Carlisle's hold becomes a consoling embrace.

Zafrina, seeing the genuine outpouring of emotion from Tanya, dispels the illusion cloaking her vision.

Kate's violent movements are finally finished, and she lays immobile for a second or so, her expression crumpling into one of deep sadness. Then she tucks her chin into her breastbone and starts to weep, her knotted, ice-coated locks covering her face, her hands fisted at her thighs.

"Shh… Shh, Katie." Garrett shifts her trembling form slightly in his arms, stroking the matted hair from her cheeks, and she pushes her nose into his chest, one fist freed to pound weakly against his shoulder as she cries, repeating to herself over and over that if he had let her go, she would have succeeded in killing her sister's murderer. "I'm so sorry, Katie. I'm so sorry," he murmurs in her ear. He lays his palm over her fist, stilling it above his heart, as he continues to whisper nonsensical words of comfort, dimly amazed by the connection he feels with her now.

A vulgar oath reverberates in my head, pulling my stare from Kate and Garrett to the incensed white-haired vampire glaring down at them with livid crimson eyes. Thwarted in his plan to goad our side into attacking first, Caius is practically snorting like an enraged bull, his hands working at his sides as he fumes inwardly.

In vivid contrast with his brother, Aro gapes at the pair tangled together in the snow incredulously. _How is the nomad able to resist her power?_ he asks in amazement. _He has no gift that I am aware of. Has he developed some type of immunity through constant exposure? Or…_ His eyes flick up to Bella, whose gaze darts from one end of the field to the other with restless caution, taking in the aggressive stances of the entire guard. _No,_ he tells himself an instant later,_ her talent is not yet mature enough for that kind of control. There must be another contributing factor._

Mumbled conversations interrupt his deliberations, and he glances over a shoulder at the witnesses they had brought, noting with acute displeasure that the bewildered looks have morphed into frowns of misgiving. The same query – what Irina had done to warrant a death sentence – cycles again and again throughout the group, both aloud and mentally.

Aro's polite expression crinkles with a grimace for a split second before he regains his composure, but his thoughts continue to betray him. _The rash execution of our informant has cast doubt on our judgment. We must salvage the situation if we are to proceed._ And his mind immediately snaps closed – like a door slamming shut.

"The Italian's white hat has been stained by the young one's demise, it seems." Stefan cackles under his breath, having spotted the aggravated look on Aro's face.

Vladimir adds gleefully in the barest whisper, "Our world is beginning to see the Volturi for what they really are. And they will be thrown down from their lofty thrones – if not today, then soon."

Preparing to reclaim authority over this confrontation, Aro touches Caius on the shoulder with his fingertips, stating calmly, "Irina has been punished for bearing false witness against this child."

Both Tanya and Kate react to his announcement. Carlisle rubs Tanya's arm in a soothing gesture, and Garrett hushes Kate's low growl even as he looks over at Aro with a baleful glare. Once she is quiet, the nomad rises to his feet, bringing her with him easily, and together they fill the space beside Tanya in the front line, Garrett's arm coiled around Kate's waist in a manner that has little to do with restraint.

Aro ignores their outbursts and continues to speak to Caius. "Perhaps we should return to the matter at hand?" he suggests in a mild tone.

Caius jerks upright, the ire melting from his stony features until his entire face is wiped clean of emotion. He recognizes that Aro is dismissing any further acts of influence the other ancient may wish to exhibit because of his failure to procure their desired outcome through deceptive allegations and Irina's murder.

In essence, Caius has been stripped of his power to make a ruling single-handedly – which is the only power he has ever had.

Aro's hand slips from his brother's rigid shoulder as he glides forward, his expression thoughtful. Renata moves after him at once, as do Felix and Demetri, their keen eyes scanning our lines for the smallest hint of an assault.

"Just to be thorough," Aro remarks, almost as an afterthought, "I'd like to speak with a few of your witnesses. Procedure, you know." His thin fingers flutter through the air in a dismissive gesture.

Despite his superficial performance of goodwill, the flow of his thinking is the one thing he cannot hide from me, and I understand the connotation well enough to cause a furious hiss to sizzle through my clenched teeth. Like a master puppeteer, Aro has devised another means to tug on the strings linking my family to our gathered witnesses, scheming to use them against us or make them doubt that their choice to stand with us is the right one.

Caius glances swiftly at his brother, and the unreadable set of his sharp-edged features cracks, bowing his lips into a tiny, cruel smirk. _This is far from over,_ he approves viciously.

My hands ball into hard fists, squeezing so tightly that the pressure travels up both arms, fanning out across my shoulders, and down my spine, turning my whole body into a vibrating wire ready to snap.

Carlisle throws a worried look at me, noting the dangerous glint in my narrowed eyes as I follow Aro's progress down the field, and his face hardens with steely resolve, the burning gold of his irises smoldering.

Pausing a short distance from the western end of our group, Aro turns toward the nearest cluster of witnesses, his gaze flickering to the nearby wolves stationed on the outskirts. Those closest flatten their ears, the fur on their thick shoulders bristling, and the sandy-colored wolf in the center of the line bares his fangs, the tendons of his forelegs flexing as he leans forward.

_Seth, hold your position!_ Jacob warns automatically. But Seth has no intention of attacking – he merely wants a closer look at the ancient immortal, and judging from the disgusted snarl wrinkling his muzzle, he stands unimpressed.

Aro considers the wolves with mild fascination, like studying an exhibit at the zoo, and then he disregards the pack completely, aiming a too friendly smile at the pair of vampires situated directly across from him. "Ah, Amun, my southern neighbor!" he greets, his feathery voice radiating warmth. "It has been so long since you've visited me." He spreads his arms in a benevolent, all-encompassing gesture.

Amun's scarlet eyes widen a bit in apprehension. Clearly, he had not expected to be addressed by the Volturi leader on such a personal level. He arranges his expression into one of remote interest, replying flatly, "Time means little; I never notice its passing."

"So true," Aro sighs in agreement. "But maybe you had another reason to stay away?" The question is posed rhetorically, the tone amiable and light, but Aro's gaze pierces the chilled air like a blade.

Holding his tongue, the Arabic vampire does not so much as blink. Both he and Aro know full well that Amun kept his coven apart from all others for so long because of Benjamin.

Indeed, Aro drops the pretense with his next words while he lowers his arms. "It can be terribly time-consuming to organize newcomers into a coven," he remarks, still smiling faintly. "I know that well! I'm grateful I have others to deal with the tedium." His eyes shift towards the middle of our formation, touching briefly on Benjamin's dark glower, turned in his direction.

"I'm glad your new additions have fit in so well," Aro says, looking back at Amun with a fond expression. "I would have loved to have been introduced. I'm sure you were meaning to come to see me soon."

The threat is laced into his statement like a subtle poison, belied by the kindly exterior, and Kebi's hooded stare darts sideways to her mate.

Fear taints the edges of Amun's mind, yet he answers in a low voice devoid of emotion, "Of course."

Brightening, Aro declares in good spirits, "Oh well, we're all together now!" He peers around the clearing to demonstrate his point. "Isn't it lovely?"

Amun nods curtly. _Conversing with him is as mystifying as ever,_ he complains to himself.

Then, like the flip of a switch, Aro's countenance moves from jovial to solemn. "But the reason for your presence here is not as pleasant, unfortunately. Carlisle called on you to witness?" he asks, steeping his brittle-looking fingers together under his chin.

"Yes." Amun studies the black-haired ancient's every movement with wary eyes.

Nodding slowly, Aro goes on. "And what did you witness for him?"

He recites in a cold monotone, "I've observed the child in question. It was evident almost immediately that she was not an immortal child –"

"Perhaps we should define our terminology," Aro cuts in, holding up a finger, "now that there seems to be new classifications. By immortal child, you mean of course a human child who had been bitten and thus transformed into a vampire." He looks expectantly at the tense caramel-skinned vampire.

Amun concurs at once. "Yes, that's what I meant."

Mildly interested, Aro paces a half step to the left; his guards compensate, orbiting around him as though held by a gravitational force. "What else did you observe about the child?" he inquires in a soft voice.

"The same things that you surely saw in Edward's mind," Amun responds in the same emotionless tone, but a ripple of confusion echoes through his thoughts. _What does he want from me?_ Nevertheless, he lists off, "That the child is his biologically. That she grows. That she learns."

Waving a hand impatiently, Aro agrees, "Yes, yes. But specifically in your few weeks here, what did you see?"

I frown at him in suspicion, wondering – along with Amun and most everyone else listening to their discussion – what Aro is hoping to accomplish through this line of questioning.

His brow furrowed in puzzlement, Amun speaks the only observation that comes to mind based upon Aro's request for 'specifics'. "That she grows…quickly."

_Indeed._ A small, pleasant smile curves Aro's pale lips. "And do you believe that she should be allowed to live?" he asks in a light, singsong manner.

Bella hisses ferociously, and I move back to wrap my hand around her wrist as a precaution, feeling the waves of tension emanating from her body. Her wordless outcry is joined by a chorus of primal sounds – resonating from most of the vampires surrounding us, and some of the witnesses lingering behind the Volturi.

Immune as ever to the protests of those who do not share his views, Aro retains his polite stance and waits for Amun to reply.

The Arabic vampire glances nervously at the others, and then hedges in a nearly indistinct mumble, "I did not come to make judgments." He shifts his balance a handful of centimeters from one foot to the other.

Aro chuckles in an attempt to reassure him. "Just your opinion," he submits, still smiling.

Having been granted a leave to speak plainly, Amun lifts his chin in determination and states, "I see no danger in the child. She learns even more swiftly then she grows." He nods once to punctuate his words.

For a moment, Aro is silent, his head bobbing gently up and down as he weighs his next move inside his head. _A more practical approach should be used…_ This snatch of thought filters through the dense mental clutter he is employing to block me, followed by, _Amun is too sensible. I must speak to someone a bit more…passionate. Someone invested in the lives of their companions._

Humming under his breath, he turns toward the opposite end of our lines, staring absently at the snow-covered ground.

"Aro?"

He spins on heel, papery-skinned face alight with curiosity as he looks at Amun. "Yes, friend?"

I resist the impulse to snort derisively while hearing Amun's decision in his thoughts, and peer over Bella's dark head to watch Benjamin as his creator says to Aro, "I gave my witness. I have no more business here. My mate and I would like to take our leave now."

Exhaling quietly, Benjamin averts his gaze from Amun and glances at Tia, who is clinging to his side with worried ruby eyes. He gives her a faint grin, and brushes the curve of her cheekbone with his index finger. _He already made his decision weeks ago – and I made mine,_ he reminds himself inwardly. _I do owe him for bringing me into this life, but he does not control my will._

Meanwhile, Aro warmly grants to Amun, "Of course. I'm so glad we were able to chat for a bit. And I'm sure we'll see each other again soon," he adds like an eager child, yet his unyielding crimson stare is fraught with significance.

His lips flattening into a thin white line, Amun curses the implied threat even as he nods in acquiescence, and then brushes his fingertips against Kebi's forearm. In unison, the pair wheel around and bound into the forest to the south, the faint sound of their passage disappearing in less than a second.

Aro floats down the clearing to the eastern edge of our group, seeming oblivious to the increasing stress affecting his trio of protectors, and halts before the striking redheaded immortal that has to lower her chin to meet his eyes. "Hello, dear Siobhan," Aro murmurs with genuine respect. "You are as lovely as ever."

She inclines her head, both her expression and mind courteous yet guarded.

Arching his black eyebrows, he inquires in a wispy, placid tone, "And you? Would you answer my questions the same way Amun has?"

"I would." Siobhan's rich alto thrums across the clearing, a light breeze stirring wayward strands of her thick auburn hair. Then she inserts a bit more forcefully, "But I would perhaps add a little more."

Aro encourages her to continue by gesturing with an open palm. _By all means, my dear – share your views with us._ My stomach twists in unease at the calculating flavor of his mind.

"Renesmee understands the limitations," she announces with staunch certainty. "She's no danger to humans – she blends in better than we do." Siobhan straightens even more, until she is literally towering over the black-haired ancient, and stares down at him with imperious scarlet eyes. "She poses no threat of exposure," she concludes firmly.

Grave consideration chases the friendly expression from Aro's face. _Alas, if only that were true, _he muses, picturing my daughter's serious brown gaze in his mind's eye. _But this child's creation has opened a Pandora's Box of future hardships for our kind. Without the foreknowledge of any possible dangers…_ Momentarily pulling away from his convoluted reflections, Aro poses to Siobhan in a grim voice, "Can you think of none?"

In a split second of inattention, a critical piece of his strategy is revealed, and an instinctive growl rips its way out of my throat, my chest vibrating with the menacing noise.

Caius' flat glare ignites with life, immediately detecting the course of his brother's verbal tactic, and at the same time Renata extends a hand towards Aro – a worried reaction to my growl.

Amidst the frustrated, apprehensive din of mental voices inside my head, one mind in particular swells to the forefront of my perception with an outraged exclamation._ He means to hold this child responsible for a threat that she may or may not pose?_ Garrett unwinds his arm from around Kate and slides one foot forward, his narrowed glare fixed on Aro. Concerned, Kate stretches out to him with a hand, her fingertips brushing against the crease of his elbow, but he ignores the unspoken warning.

I find that Garrett's astute reading into Aro's question dimly impresses me, especially given that Siobhan answers slowly, her smooth brow furrowed in uncertainty, "I don't think I follow you."

As he meets her suspicious gaze, Aro wafts backward several steps, discreetly separating himself a little further from the hostility building within our group. Renata, Demetri, and Felix form a tight triangle around the ancient, their stances tense and alert.

Palms facing outward in a conciliatory gesture, Aro murmurs in a soft, peaceful tone, "There is no broken law." He pauses a moment, examining the lines of vampires arrayed in front of him, and then continues. "No broken law. However, does it follow then that there is no danger? No," he responds to his own question, shaking his head with exaggerated slowness. "That is a separate issue."

He begins to pace – measured, pensive strides, his ebony cloak billowing gently in his wake – and Maggie moves her head back and forth in furious disbelief, her gift subtle enough to detect the faint prickles of deceit in Aro's quiet words.

"She is unique…" he comments almost to himself, yet he is acutely aware of the watching eyes and listening ears on both sides of the field, and he uses the strip of unblemished snow between us like a platform. "…Utterly, impossibly unique. Such a waste it would be, to destroy something so lovely." His stare flits to Renesmee as he breathes, "Especially when we could learn so much…" A low sigh pushes past his thin lips. "But there_ is_ danger," he remarks sadly, "danger that cannot simply be ignored." Still pacing, Aro adjusts his course a few centimeters, so that his next pass brings him closer to his guard.

The silence hanging over the clearing is ominous, oppressive. It pleases Aro to have such a rapt audience, and he goes on, his feathery voice introspective, "How ironic it is that as the humans advance, as their faith in science grows and controls their world, the more free we are from discovery. Yet, as we become ever more uninhibited by their disbelief in the supernatural, they become strong enough in their technologies that, if they wished, they could actually pose a threat to us, even destroy some of us."

Emmett snarls almost inaudibly, his shoulders straining from the effort of holding himself in check. _What the hell is he talking about? What does this have to do with anything?_

Jacob echoes his thoughts, though arguably in a more…colorful manner.

Appearing absentminded, Aro looks toward the clouded sky, his cleverly articulated monologue resuming. "For thousands and thousands of years, our secrecy has been more a matter of convenience, of ease, than of actual safety." He lowers his eyes to the field, seeming to gaze beyond the assembled vampires, the trees, and even the forest itself. "This last raw, angry century has given birth to weapons of such power that they endanger even immortals," he says solemnly. "Now our status as mere myth in truth protects us from these weak creatures we hunt." _As a majority, in any case,_ he amends with half a glance at me.

He then raises his right hand, the palm turned down in an odd position – as if he is about to touch someone on the head. Directing his attention to Renesmee, he declares with torn reluctance, "This amazing child. If we could but know her potential – know with _absolute certainty_ that she could always remain shrouded within the obscurity that protects us. But we know nothing of what she will become!" He rotates his wrist to motion towards Bella and I. "Her own parents are plagued by fears of her future. We _cannot_ know what she will grow to be."

Here he allows a break in proceedings, his filmy crimson eyes roving across our lines, and then he pivots gracefully to look at the guard and the witnesses he had brought. Through their minds, I can easily see the remorse etched into his expression, and perhaps I might even believe it…if not for the dark tang of conquest seeping into his stifled thoughts.

Aloud, Aro murmurs in hesitation, his stare locked on the crowd huddled near the tree line, "Only the known is safe. Only the known is tolerable. The unknown is…a vulnerability."

Caius smiles a predator's leer, while all around me, my family and our allies react to Aro's inference.

In a desolate tone, my father replies, "You're reaching, Aro." _And verifying all my worst fears._

The misleadingly benign ancient turns back to our portion of the field, wearing a gentle expression. "Peace, friend," he tells Carlisle soothingly. "Let us not be hasty. Let us look at this from every side." Aro folds his white hands in front of his torso and waits for a rebuttal.

Taking a decisive step forward, Garrett requests formally, "May I offer a side to be considered?"

Kate blinks at him in surprise, as do a good number of the surrounding witnesses. Both Carlisle and Tanya peer at me in wordless question, but I have no qualm with what Garrett is formulating in his mind to share. To be honest, I am becoming increasingly amazed by the nomad – and also more certain than ever that he has every intention of joining our family, provided we survive this confrontation.

Aro nods in consent. "Nomad."

Garrett jerks his chin upward, a resolute gleam in his ruby-colored eyes, and focuses on the motley throng at the farthest end of the clearing. Raising his voice only slightly, he announces with the inflection of one who believes so unwaveringly in each word, "I came here at Carlisle's request, as the others, to witness. That is certainly no longer necessary, with regard to the child. We all see what she is." A quick breath fills his lungs, and he goes on. "I stayed to witness something else."

His gaze latches onto a pair of familiar faces – a small black-haired woman and a man with tousled dark blonde locks – and he thrusts a forefinger in their direction. "You. Two of you I know – Makenna, Charles – and I can see that many of you others are also wanderers, roamers like myself. Answering to none." His low voice throbs with intensity as he commands, "Think carefully on what I tell you now."

Pointing at the Volturi, Garrett asserts heatedly, "These ancient ones did_ not_ come here for justice as they told you. We suspected as much, and now it has been proved. They came, misled, but with a valid excuse for their action."

His tone, still fueled by an inner fire, also hardens – like the molten rock that spills from an erupting volcano. "Witness now as they seek flimsy excuses to continue their true mission. Witness them struggle to find a justification for their true purpose – to destroy this family here." The accusing posture of his extended hand relaxes into an open palm, and he motions toward Carlisle and Tanya, the two pillars of our way of life. "The Volturi come to erase what they perceive as the competition."

He glances at Aro fleetingly, as though daring the other immortal to deny it. But the dark-haired ancient simply looks back at Garrett with mild politeness, ascertaining to himself that nothing the nomad says will influence the outcome of any impending battle.

After a brief second, Garrett shifts his eyes back to the mass of witnesses and continues, still impassioned, yet a fair amount of admiration is woven into his speech. "Perhaps, like me, you look at this clan's golden eyes and marvel. They are difficult to understand, it's true," he admits with a hint of irony. "But the ancient ones look and see something besides their strange choice. They see _power." As do I._

A whirlwind collage of visions, all of them relating to my family, flicker through his mind. Countless examples of Carlisle's unfailing compassion, Esme's motherly devotion, Rose's fierce protectiveness, Emmett's steadfast loyalty, Bella's passionate conviction, Renesmee's abounding love, and my fervent dependence upon the woman who harbors my soul, mingles with instances of camaraderie and affection displayed between Tanya, Kate, Eleazar, and Carmen.

Looking over at the nomad with a vague sense of awe in regard to his insight, I listen to the astonishment in his tone, and detect the faint undercurrent of wistful speculation as he declares, "I have witnessed the bonds within this family – I say _family_ and not _coven._ These strange golden-eyed ones deny their very natures. But in return have they found something worth even more, perhaps, than mere gratification of desire?"

Garrett slides a half step to the side, so as not to block anyone's view of my family. "I've made a little study of them in my time here," he remarks sincerely, as though he has uncovered a great truth that is for the benefit of all, "and it seems to me that intrinsic to this intense family binding – that which makes them possible at all – is the peaceful character of this life of sacrifice. There is no aggression here like we all saw in the large southern clans that grew and diminished so quickly in their wild feuds. There is no thought for domination."

Then he turns to scowl in Aro's direction, growling, "And Aro know this better than I do."

"Carlisle assured us all" – Garrett's voice softens infinitesimally as he mentions my father – "when he told us what was coming, that he did not call us here to fight. These witnesses," he indicates Siobhan and Liam with a gesture, "agreed to give evidence, to slow the Volturi advance with their presence so that Carlisle would get the chance to present his case."

He glances over his shoulder at Eleazar, stating, "But some of us wondered if Carlisle having truth on his side would be enough to stop the so-called justice."

Like placing weights on a scale to tip the balance in our favor, Garrett lays out a series of compelling questions. "Are the Volturi here to protect the safety of our secrecy, or to protect their own power? Did they come to destroy an illegal creation, or a way of life? Could they be satisfied when the danger turned out to be no more than a misunderstanding? Or would they push the issue without the excuse of justice?"

With the skill of a practiced orator, he stops for a beat, allowing his inquiries to soak into everyone's thoughts, feeding the witnesses' doubts in regard to the Volturi's motivations for lingering here.

"We have the answer to all these questions," Garrett responds, the stoked embers of his ire flaring brightly as he speaks. "We heard it in Aro's lying words – we have one with a gift of knowing such things for certain – and we see it now in Caius' eager smile. Their guard is just a mindless weapon, a tool in their masters' quest for domination. So now there are more questions, questions that_ you_ must answer."

He spreads his arms wide in offering as he asks boldly, "Who rules you, nomads? Do you answer to someone's will besides your own? Are you free to choose your path, or will the Volturi decide how you will live?"

Altering his stance, the offer presented by his open arms changes into a defensive posture, and he makes his plans clear with his next statement. "I came to witness. I stay to fight. The Volturi care nothing for the death of the child. They seek the death of our free will."

Spinning sideways, Garrett faces the three brothers, now gathered quite close together. The forefront members of the guard tense as a precaution, but he will not risk a direct attack. He is only demonstrating his own fearlessness of their power.

"So come, I say!" he calls with audacious courage. "Let's hear no more lying rationalizations. Be honest in your intents as we will be honest in ours. We will defend our freedom. You will or will not attack it. Choose now, and let these witnesses see the true issue debated here."

Caius eyes him as if he were an insect that had just stepped into his path. Aro studies the nomad politely, a hint of amusement dancing along the corners of his mouth.

Garrett suddenly whirls, locking stares with any of the Volturi's witnesses that will meet his eyes. "You might consider joining us," he tells them seriously. "If you think the Volturi will let you live to tell_ this_ tale, you are mistaken. We may all be destroyed," he says, shrugging, "but then again, maybe not. Perhaps we are on more equal footing than they know. Perhaps the Volturi have finally met their match." Eyes blazing like twin flames beneath a lowered brow, he vows, "I promise you this, though – if we fall, so do you."

Never relaxing his stance, Garrett moves back to Kate's side and drops into a crouch, preparing to fight. The slender blonde next to him stares at his profile in awe, her topaz irises shining with emotion.

Thoroughly entertained, Aro smiles in appreciation and compliments in his wispy voice, "A very pretty speech, my revolutionary friend."

Garrett's eyes tighten angrily, and the rumble of a growl accentuates his retort. "Revolutionary? Who am I revolting against, I might ask?" His lips curl upward, exposing his gritted teeth, and he contends, "Are you my king? Do you wish me to call you _master,_ too, like your sycophantic guard?" Snow crunches beneath the soles of his boots as he shifts his weight, and a few of the ash-cloaked figures – Felix included – poise for an attack.

Holding up a hand in surrender, Aro murmurs in a lenient tone, "Peace, Garrett. I meant only to refer to your time of birth. Still a patriot, I see." He smiles kindly.

The nomad glares with barely suppressed outrage, his wiry frame tensed like a coiled spring. _Patriotism is not limited to past centuries,_ Garrett snarls inwardly, _when there is tyranny present even among immortals. Some things_ – his gaze flicks to the right, touching on Kate for a fraction of a second – _are worth fighting for._

Then he sidles an inch or so closer to her, determined to support her in any capacity during the skirmish that now seems inevitable.

Despite his overall amusement with Garrett's avid speech, Aro is, as ever, devoted to maintaining the Volturi's reputation as peacekeepers and the leadership of our world. Glancing at the cluster of witnesses that have moved further into the skeletal shadows of the forest, he attempts to salvage the situation by donning the elaborate façade his coven has created in order to disguise their real intentions.

"Let us ask our witnesses," he proposes generously. "Let us hear their thoughts before we make our decision."

Aro turns and drifts forward, the guard parting with fluid accuracy before him, until he is in full view of the uneasy crowd. "Tell us, friends," he requests, holding out a hand, "what do you think of all this? I can assure you the child is not what we feared. Do we take the risk and let the child live? Do we put our world in jeopardy to preserve their family intact?"

Lifting his other hand, he offers both towards them as a sign of supplication, asking as though each word is painful to him, "Or does earnest Garrett have the right of it? Will you join them in a fight against our sudden quest for dominion?"

Caution paints each face as the witnesses reflect on Aro's statements. After a moment of stressed stillness, the black-haired female that Garrett had pointed out earlier peers sidelong at her companion with hooded, solemn eyes. The dark blonde male looks steadily back at her, and a sort of wordless communication passes between them.

Her chin-length inky tresses swirling around her head like a fan, the woman fixes her gaze on Aro, and she questions, "Are those our only choices? Agree with you, or fight against you?" Her voice, carrying just a trace of Irish brogue, is higher in pitch than Siobhan's, but not as bright as Maggie's. I commit its tone to memory and begin sifting through the mental cacophony inside my brain, latching onto her train of thought, which is bathed in trepidation and growing resolve.

Aro seems taken aback by her query, his papery-skinned features contorted in shock, and he lays a palm on his chest, replying, "Of course not, most charming Makenna. You may go in peace, of course, as Amun did, even if you disagree with the council's decision." _We will always be able to find you again, should the need arise, _he muses to himself.

She weighs this pronouncement in her mind for a second, and glances once more at her fair-haired mate. _Garrett's words ring of truth – I could feel it, even before Charles said anything to me. But if we consign ourselves to the same fate as these…_ Charles nods very slightly, seeing the internal debate in her crimson eyes.

"We did not come here for a fight," Makenna declares immediately, and then pauses, exhaling a quiet breath. She fears speaking her mind to Aro, yet reasons that if his show of goodwill is legit, then she is obligated for the sake of her own independence to voice an opinion. "We came here to witness," Makenna says firmly. "And our witness is that this condemned family is innocent. Everything that Garrett claimed is the truth." She juts out her small chin, bravely meeting the ancient's clouded stare.

"Ah," Aro sighs, his shoulders drooping a little in sorrow. "I'm sorry you see us in that way."_ Sorry, indeed… _And he makes a mental note to send Demetri after the pair once they return to Italy. "But such is the nature of our work," he adds as a justification for genocide.

A strained, nervous tenor issues from Charles' mouth. "It is not what I see, but what I feel." He glances fleetingly at Garrett, and remarks in a quick burst, "Garrett said they have ways of knowing lies. I, too, know when I am hearing the truth, and when I am not." He edges toward Makenna, waiting for Aro to respond, his eyes wide and frightened.

The ancient smiles at the two nomads gently, assuring, "Do not fear us, friend Charles. No doubt the patriot truly believes what he says." He chuckles, and Garrett hisses under his breath while Charles narrows his glare, the fear almost entirely banished from his expression.

Clasping her mate's hand, Makenna announces in a clear tone that rings out across the field, "That is our witness. We're leaving now." _Godspeed you all,_ she whispers internally, looking at our small band on the opposite end of the clearing.

She and Charles take slow steps backward in retreat, and when the snow-covered boughs of pine and tangled underbrush swallow them, they turn and bound away.

After their departure, another nomad detaches himself from the mob and disappears into the forest. An instant later, three others sprint into the trees, as well.

Ultimately, there are a little over thirty vampires left as the Volturi's witnesses. From the general consensus of their thoughts, most are bewildered by this whole affair, and some are compelled to remain – if only to see which side will claim the victory here.

None of them are planning to join the fight.

So we have suddenly gained the advantage of greater numbers.

Aro realizes this at nearly the same time, and threads his way through the guard to stand in front of them, arms raised like he is about to embrace each one. Jane's round face lights up with glee, and an electric current of anticipation begins to crackle among the hooded multitude as they wait for him to speak.

"We are outnumbered, dearest ones," Aro murmurs musically, his tone loving and soft. "We can expect no outside help. Should we leave this question undecided to save ourselves?" he asks, meeting every rapt, shadowed gaze.

"No, master," they chorus in a low whisper.

Renesmee shivers a little against Bella, and Jacob shakes his russet-colored fur, thinking queerly, _It's like the freakin' Twilight Zone._ Several in the pack mutter their agreement.

"Is the protection of our world worth perhaps the loss of some of our number?" Aro breathes in a tender, feathery voice.

In unison, the guard intones, "Yes. We are not afraid."

Aro beams at them like a proud father, and then turns to address the other two ancients. "Brothers," he says with quiet seriousness, "there is much to consider here."

Eager for retribution, Caius declaims, "Let us counsel." _Jane shall make them all beg for mercy,_ he sneers. _Starting with their vaunted patron saint._ He peers at Carlisle ruthlessly from the corner of his eye.

"Let us counsel," Marcus repeats in an apathetic murmur, his mind a gray void broken up by flashes of memory and of the bonds he had sensed within our assembly.

Turning his back on us, Aro motions for his brothers to draw closer, and the three of them join hands, forming a tight black circle at the center of the Volturi guard.

Once Aro is distracted, another pair of vampires steals soundlessly into the woods. But the odds are still stacked against us. There must be a way to turn the tide of this battle – a battle that will commence even before the ancients have finished their consultation.

I wrack my brains for a strategy, any alternative that will increase our chances of survival, and realize with a painful stab of anguish that nothing more _can _be done. We have prepared as best we could, and now the time has come to face whatever end awaits us.

I look over at Bella, wanting to encourage her, and to ensure that she is the last thing I see before we depart this world – and blink in puzzlement as she carefully pries Renesmee's arms from around her neck and stares into the little girl's dark eyes with somber determination. "You remember what I told you?" she says just above a whisper.

Renesmee inhales a shuddering breath, her gaze swimming with tears…and the memory bursts through the wall she had constructed to hide it from me. Aghast, I feel my entire body ice over as the images fill my head with excruciating clarity.

_Momma knelt in front of me in the tent. Her face was so sad – like something was hurting her – and she touched my cheeks with her cool hands. "I love you," she said, and it was a promise. "More than anything."_

"_I love you, too, Momma," I told her right away. Then I put my fingers to the locket around my neck – the locket that both Momma and Daddy helped me put a picture inside of, so we would always be together. "We'll always be together," I reminded her aloud._

_Her mouth twisted in pain, and her eyes that were the same color as the sun before it sank over the horizon burned into mine. I wanted so badly to make her feel better, but before I could, she whispered very quietly, "In our hearts we'll always be together." Then she leaned forward, and I felt her lips brush my ear as she breathed, "But when the time comes today, you have to leave me."_

_No._

_No, I can't leave Momma, or Daddy. We are a family. We love each other._

_No. I won't do it._

_I jerked back and pressed my hand to Momma's cheek, screaming_ no_ inside my head so loud that it stung my eyes, and it was hard to see her face; the edges were all smudged, like the watercolor painting Grandma Esme made for me._

_Momma swallowed, and she asked, her voice rough, "Will you do it for me? Please?"_

_I dug my fingertips into her white skin, demanding, _Why?

_But a part of me – the part that was ancient and wise, strong and everlasting – already knew the answer. They didn't like to talk about it when I was around, but I could hear more than anyone realized._

_Daddy and Momma wanted to keep me safe. If they send me away…that means I'm not safe with them anymore._

_That means…Grandpa Carlisle, Grandma Esme, Uncle Em, Aunt Rose…Daddy, Momma…and all the friends I've made…_

_They're all going to die._

_I couldn't see. I blinked, and blinked again, then rubbed my eyes with my fist. Momma smoothed my hair and touched her forehead to mine. "I can't tell you," she murmured gently. "But you'll understand soon. I promise."_

_She didn't know that I already understood. I wished I didn't._

_But if I had to leave, what about my Jacob?_

_His warm, red-brown face appeared through the tears that I tried to wipe away, and I sent it to Momma, knowing that she would hear my question._

_She nodded, and tugged my hand from her face. Then she whispered in my ear again. "Don't think of it. Don't tell Jacob until I tell you to run, okay?"_

_Momma didn't want Daddy to know that she was sending me away with Jacob. There must be a reason for that; Momma and Daddy told each other everything. So I nodded and pushed what she told me deep, _deep_ down inside, to keep her secret._

Renesmee casts aside the memory violently, and nods in response to her mother's words. "I love you," she whispers, her chiming voice thick with tears.

"I love you," Bella replies with tender fervor, her fingertips resting on the tiny golden locket clasped around our daughter's throat. "More than my own life." She lays a sweet kiss on Renesmee's forehead, as though it is a benediction, and a sparkle falls from beneath the little girl's closed eyelids.

_What's going on?_ Jacob turns his massive head from side to side, studying my frozen, horror-struck expression, and then he notices Renesmee's tears.

An anxious whine leaves his mouth as he shifts his glittering black eyes to Bella, the obstinate, anguished look on her face setting him more on edge than ever. _What's the matter?_ he thinks frustratedly, wishing he could ask out loud.

As if she could hear him, Bella steps so close to Jacob that her stomach brushes against the heavy fur on his neck, and she lifts herself up onto her tiptoes to reach his ear, which immediately swivels in her direction. "Wait until they're totally distracted," she tells him, scarcely louder than a breeze, "then run with her. Get as far from this place as you possibly can. When you've gone as far as you can on foot, she has what you need to get you in the air."

The mind that was once nearly impossible to ignore has gone completely blank in horrified despair. Jacob's large dark eyes have swollen exponentially, and his wide mouth hangs open in shock while Bella settles back on the ground and turns toward me.

Renesmee stretches out her small hands, her perfect face crumpling in grief, and I pull her into my arms, holding on as tightly as I dared. _I love you, Daddy,_ she sends over and over, her wet cheek pressing into the hollow underneath my ear.

I bury my nose in her soft curls and breathe in the warm scent of cinnamon and jasmine, listening to the rapid thrum of her pulse, and feeling the scorching heat of her tiny body nestled against my chest. Our little miracle.

Raising my head, I gaze at Bella over the halo of our daughter's bronze ringlets. She stares back at me with all the love that could possibly be contained within the entire universe. "This is what you kept from me?" I murmur lowly, though my tone is more certain than questioning.

"From Aro," she corrects in a husky whisper.

I suspected as much. And there is only one person who would have had the foresight to prevent me from learning any knowledge that Aro would use against our family when he gleaned it from my mind. The same person that must have given Bella, the only one whose thoughts are a mystery to me, the clues to follow – clues that surely began with the book she threw into the fire the day we lost two of our siblings. "Alice?"

She nods, and reaches out to me with her eyes, the spark within her amber gaze begging me not to lose hope, even though this confirms that it is our destiny to perish.

I do not know what emotions shape my features, but I watch Bella melt with compassion, her full bottom lip trembling, and I realize that our shared sorrow is not because we are almost certainly fated to die, but because we are parents who are about to send their child away from the only life she has ever known and condemn her to the frantic existence of a fugitive.

Yet she will have love. Jacob will see to that.

He has torn free from the grip of dismay and is now seething like an inferno inside. Fangs bared, a rasping growl echoes uninterrupted from his throat, and his hackles are raised as his thoughts roil chaotically. _NO! No, I won't leave! It's my job to protect – and this is my family! _All _of you are my family! Nessie can't lose her mom and dad – it'll kill her! There has to be a way for us to win; we have to stay together and fight!_

Sniffling, Renesmee slowly releases her hold around my neck and looks up at me. Her eyes are swollen from crying, the lashes clogged with saltwater, and her face is flushed, her cheeks stained with wetness…yet in the depths of her steady gaze, I see the same indomitable, enduring spirit of her mother. I lean forward and press my lips to her brow and both cheeks, tasting her tears, and then lift her tiny form to Jacob's back.

She clutches two handfuls of his russet fur and scuttles upward, fitting herself into the valley between his shoulder blades, and bends downs to lay her head on the nape of his neck.

Once she settles into place, Jacob chokes out a whimper, though his low growl still vibrates within his chest, and the arguing in his mind tapers off. Agonized, he turns to Bella, his black eyes glittering with despair and acceptance, pain and devotion, and an undying love. _Please… _he begs both of us,_ don't do this._

She stretches out an arm in my direction, and without moving away from Jacob, I take her hand, interlocking our fingers. "You're the only one we could ever trust her with," Bella tells him softly, solidifying the final link in the chain that connects all four of our hearts, forging an unbreakable circle that neither time nor death can shatter. "If you didn't love her so much," she goes on, her wind chime voice descending into a throaty, emotional murmur, "I could never bear this. I know you can protect her, Jacob." She breathes in deeply to try and compose herself, but her fingertips quiver faintly against my knuckles.

A mournful whine ripples across his muzzle. _Oh, Bells…_ Then he lowers his head and pushes it into her shoulder. _I love you,_ his mind whispers, as gentle as sunlight and as constant as gravity.

Bella strokes the side of his face with her other palm, nuzzling her chin briefly into the red-brown fur on top of his head. "I know," she reassures him, breathless with emotion. "I love you, too, Jake. You'll always be my best man." Her eyelids flutter closed as she kisses the swatch of fur where his cheekbone should be.

A glistening puddle of liquid spills from one expressive black eye and darkens a path through his coat, a wordless sob filling his head and mine.

Leaning into Jacob's massive, burning-hot frame, I rest my temple against his hard shoulder. There is so much that I want to say to him – to show my gratitude, to offer him my acceptance of his love for Renesmee, and to reinforce the bonds of brotherhood that have only begun to take root within us.

But there is not enough time in all of eternity, let alone these last few seconds, for me to convey everything that I should. Instead, I bestow the simplest blessing and farewell that I pray will someday heal the rifts in his heart. "Goodbye, Jacob, my brother…my son."

His whole body shudders mightily in response, a strangled noise lodging itself between his clenched jaws, and Renesmee pats the tip of his shoulder with her small hand in an effort to console him.

After a moment, Jacob lifts his head from Bella's shoulder as she steps back, and I move from his side to join her at the center of our offensive line. All eyes are fixed on the black-shrouded trio surrounded by a sea of gray; however, I easily distinguish from the clamor of mental voices flooding my skull that the goodbyes Bella and I exchanged have not gone unnoticed.

On my left, Carlisle asks in an even whisper absent of fear or regret, "Is there no hope, then?"

Ever trusting, Bella answers in a determined murmur, "There is absolutely hope. I only know my own fate." She stares straight ahead, gloriously stubborn, the wind lashing strands of chocolate brown hair against her pale skin, and I squeeze her hand tightly. She mimics the pressure an instant later, wordlessly expressing, as I did, that any fate that awaits her is mine, as well. We are one and the same – forever.

_O, God,_ Esme invokes as a prayer, her breathing erratic and hitching with mute sobs, _please look after my children. Take me if You will, and spare them. I cannot bear to watch them die._ She winds around Bella, brushing her cheek with her fingers, and then cradles my face in her palm, telling me with her shimmering tawny eyes all that she cannot put into words or thought.

Still walking, Esme's hand slips from my jaw, and she comes to a stop beside Carlisle, seizing his hand as though it is a lifeline. He glances over at her, the tender expression on his face one that he reserves just for her, and raises their entwined hands to his lips, kissing hers lingeringly.

As though their farewells are some sort of signal, a soft chorus of goodbyes and sentiments abruptly fills the wintry air.

Surprising her, Garrett whirls sideways and takes hold of Kate's face, bending down to touch his mouth to hers for a fraction of a second. "If we live through this," he declares intensely, "I'll follow you anywhere, woman."

He releases her just as swiftly, reassuming his defensive stance, and Kate sways in place for a moment, lips parted slightly in utter disbelief. Then she shakes herself out of her stupor and tosses her cornsilk tresses over a shoulder to appear nonchalant, though a muttered aside slips from her set mouth. "Now he tells me."

Garrett's cheek twitches a little in response.

Emmett and Rosalie crash into one another simultaneously for a brief, feverish embrace, and behind them, Tia lovingly caresses Benjamin's face, her wide eyes reflecting concern and terror. He gives her a boyish grin, charming her once again, and puts his hand over hers, keeping it against his cheek.

Others demonstrate their love all around us, and I withdraw my awareness as best I can to give them privacy – when an unexpected thought pattern knifes through the softer, emotional haze. _The bonds between their allies will be easier to sever. I shall start there._

The cultured feminine voice is one I have heard only once before, inside an ancient stone turret in Italy.

Chelsea is perched on the far left of the Volturi formation, the dark gray hood of her cloak covering the shock of platinum blonde hair crowning her head, and I suck in a sharp breath, waiting for her gift to take affect.

Unbelievably, no one makes a move to run or join the Volturi, and a flicker of a frown wrinkles Chelsea's forehead. _They're – they're not there._ Her pale eyebrows come together in concentration, and puzzlement. _I can't find the bindings linking them together. But…but that should be impossible. It_ is_ impossible. They_ must_ be there!_

She intensifies her focus, zeroing in on Siobhan and Liam, but nothing happens. It is like she is hitting a solid, blank wall.

At the same time, Bella tenses at my side, her grip tightening around my palm, and she whispers ominously, "Get ready. It's starting."

------------

**Author's Notes:** The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 702-724, and pages 675-676.

Can I just say that I_ love_ Garrett? He is such a wonderful character, and I'm having so much fun 'fleshing out' his personality.

On the flip side, I am at a loss as to who I despise more: Aro or Caius. Aro definitely has the conniving intelligence, but Caius has cornered the market on malevolent cruelty and just plain nastiness. He sort of took on a demonic persona while I was writing Irina's death, and the imagery of his face looking like a skull in the firelight gave me the shivers.

And, lest I forget, translations.

_Vieni qui adesso, tu inutile disgraziata _is Italian for "Come here now, you useless wretch."

Thank you to Camilla at Twilighted dot net for correcting my verbage.

And _môj sestra _is Slovakian for "my sister".

Finally, I have to say that it was a fascinating experience to try and see things from Renesmee's point of view. She strikes me as such a contradiction, because her mind is highly developed – like a vampire's – but her human qualities are like that of a child.

One last thing: Voting for the **Bellie Awards** ends at 9:00pm EST on August 5. If you haven't voted, consider this your shove to head on over to their website. There are many amazing stories up for awards (including _"Metamorphosis"_), so please lend your support. And thank you to everyone who has already voted for my story at the TwiFic Indie Awards and the Bellies!


	20. Power

**Chapter Notes:** I know I am such a schmuck for delaying this chapter so long. In my defense, I had very sporadic time slots to write in, and I am obsessed (in an almost frightening way) with getting Edward's voice exactly right at this point in the story.

Many of you have expressed in the past your eagerness to read this chapter from his point of view, and your collective faith in my interpretation as made me a bit frantic about every minute detail.

So, it is with a sigh of relief and nervously wringing hands that I present this pivotal chapter – the last one before the much-anticipated finale. I pray that it is everything it can and should be in order to do this epic stand off justice.

Enjoy.

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Only the anticipating breaths of both sides and the thundering pulses of the wolves' hearts break the unsettled, suspense-driven hush that descends upon the clearing.

In the aftermath of Bella's cryptic statement, all those around us tense for an assault, their keen eyes darting across the Volturi lines in an effort to pinpoint the immediate threat. When there is none visibly manifesting, a storm of questions, demands, and remarks floods my head, pounding against the break wall dividing my own subconscious from the external thoughts I am forever bound to endure.

Yet I hear none of it.

My focus is centered solely on the panicked frustration throbbing within the mind of the Volturi's instrument of persuasion.

Chelsea persists in her attempt to locate the cords of allegiance linking my family to our witnesses, and the mental exertion of her efforts blares loudly as she pummels the solid yet intangible barrier that seems to enclose the whole southern end of the field.

What holds my interest more than the sheer impossibility of this kind of power is the fact that, through Chelsea's increasingly distressed cries, I am able to recognize the shape and feel of this unseen obstacle. It is the same unnerving, impenetrable silence that had caught my attention on a tedious January afternoon in the Forks High School cafeteria, and it is something that I have learned to tolerate even as I yearn with every fiber of my being to glimpse what lies beyond.

And now the same opaque veil that hides the most captivating mind in the world is swathed over every member of our group.

Fascinated, I spend a few more seconds watching through Chelsea's perception as she tries again and again to discover the threads creating a web of camaraderie among us – only to be thwarted each time. _Where _are _they?_ she shrieks in vain, her expression contorted into a grimace of concentration and dread beneath the cowl of her ash-gray hood.

The skin of my palm tingles with an inexplicable burst of energy, and I am instantly and acutely aware of the smaller hand grasped within mine. Bella knew what Chelsea was doing, almost before I did, and there is no denying that she has the ability to shield herself and another from any mental talents.

But…on such a scale…when she is only months old to this life… _Is it even possible?_

Suddenly, the equivalent of a physical shove jars my brain, accompanied by my brother's exasperated bellow ringing inside my skull. _Edward, quit messing around and tell us what the hell is going on before somebody gets hurt! _Emmett growls under his breath, his thick chest vibrating with the noise, and he lifts a meaty hand to give me a _real_ shove if I do not respond. Everyone's nerves are frayed nearly into nonexistence – his included – and any lack of control on our part will lead to disaster.

Though their eyes remain locked on the opposing lines of ash and charcoal, I can sense that each one is waiting to hear from me what is occurring, and what had prompted Bella to speak those portentous words. Quietly as a breath, I whisper, "Chelsea is trying to break our bindings. But she can't find them." A hint of incredulous awe trickles into my voice. "She can't feel us here…" Desperate for an explanation, my curiosity surges forth, compelling me to ask while my head swivels towards Bella, "Are you doing that?"

Amber irises aglow with an inner fire, her full lips curve into the fearsome smile of an avenging seraph as she turns to me. "I am_ all_ over this," she vows in a fierce, staggeringly confident tone.

Before I can fully absorb her exquisite, terrifying countenance or the enormity of what she is implying, an image of my father as viewed from across the field crashes into my head, dominating all other thought.

_We shall see how virtuous he is while screaming in pain._ A tiny, evil grin appears on Jane's shadowed face as her gift arcs toward Carlisle like talons of black fire, seeking to wrap him in a burning cocoon of torture.

On instinct, I lunge in his direction, forgetting that there is no defense I can offer – and my fingertips brush the corner of his sleeve just as the illusory flames reach for him. Grasping at his arm anxiously, I choke out, "Carlisle? Are you all right?" My eyes rake over his well-known features, waiting for the grimace of pain and convulsions to take hold…yet he remains standing, looking at me in complete bewilderment.

"Yes," he replies slowly. Jane blinks once, surprised that Carlisle seems to be unaffected, and then her crimson eyes narrow into slits, blazing with fury. "Why?"

I loosen my grip on his forearm and turn sideways, answering grimly while I focus on her small, cloaked form, "Jane."

At the same time, Jane regroups from her improbable failure and braces for a widespread attack, choosing random targets on all sides of our assembly. _You will all suffer for this insolence, _she swears, and her mind appears to implode – like a dying star – before sending out a shockwave of power intent on inflicting agony to her twelve chosen victims.

But the black fire of her ability suddenly slams into the same barrier that has rendered Chelsea impotent, and the energy crackles erratically as it claws in vain at the…shield…until it is cancelled out by another source. Lost in an awestruck sense of unreality, I watch through Jane's ever more infuriated mind as the barrier flexes as though it is a living thing in the aftermath of her assault. There are no startled cries of pain; no one falls to the ground seizing in torment. Instead, every pair of cautious eyes darts around the clearing, waiting with bated breath to see a comrade succumb to the Volturi's most feared weapon.

_This… What is –? _Jane sucks in a gulp of cold air through her teeth, fully expecting a dozen of us to crumple onto the glistening snow, and when none of the others so much as twitches, the little demon begins to seethe – and grow uneasy. _This is not happening!_

While she continues to rage, I angle my body away from Carlisle and stare openly at the dark-haired angel only inches from my side, my chest swelling with countless emotions as my still heart seems to tremble, pounding out a phantom pulse. The hope that Bella had planted within me the moment she landed in my arms in a cobblestone alley halfway around the world, and has so lovingly and diligently nurtured in the last few weeks, unfurls its wings and alights upon the soul I am now certain that I possess.

And the memory of a fragile, bruised girl lying in a hospital bed, her dark eyes shining with the unconquerable spirit she carries in spades, gains an entirely new meaning as her words echo through my mind.

"_It just seems logical…a man and a woman have to be somewhat equal…as in, one of them can't always be swooping in and saving the other one. They have to save each other _equally. _I can't always be Lois Lane. I want to be Superman, too."_

Bella has always seen herself as the weakest link, especially when she was human. She worried that I or Alice or any one of our family – even the wolves – would be hurt because she needed protection. I know that many times she felt unworthy to be surrounded by supernatural creatures that would step into harm's way for her when she was incapable of repaying the favor. And though I cannot read her mind, I have glimpsed through her words, her expressions, and in her eyes that she has a deep need to defend me, Renesmee, and everyone she cares about from danger.

Her shield is the perfect example of this intrinsic desire. The same shield that has been amplified to near omnipotent strength, combined with her selfless heart, has completed Bella's metamorphosis from a vulnerability to the lynchpin of our family's survival, just as surely as she is mine.

"Incredible," I marvel softly, drinking in the luminescent alabaster features of her profile as she stares across the field, radiating intensity, and her chin tilts up ever so slightly in wordless challenge.

In an explosive rush of clarity, the muted thoughts in the back of my brain surge forward, pulling my attention to the present moment. A few separate themselves from the mental jumble:

_Are they attacking?_ Emmett leans further in a crouch, eyes locked on Felix's hulking frame.

_She couldn't hurt me,_ Carlisle observes, studying Jane's disbelieving expression, and then his sharp gaze darts sideways. _Is that Bella's doing?_

_Why aren't they waiting for their verdict? _Furious, Tanya snarls out this question aloud. "Why aren't they waiting for the decision?"

I make a slashing motion with my hand, the icy air whistling across my skin, and answer tersely, "Normal procedure. They usually incapacitate those on trial so they can't escape." I had determined that much just before Aro and his brothers had begun their conjoined dialogue, and Eleazar nods once very slightly in agreement.

Only seconds have passed since Jane lashed out with her failed attack, and she continues to rant and rave mentally, shrieking that it is impossible for anyone to escape her grasp. While in the corner of my eye, I see Bella's pale cheek lift as she curls her lips into a flagrant, smug smile aimed directly at the tiny vampire.

Jane's tirade abruptly chokes off. _Her,_ she spits with enough vitriol to rival the fires of hell. Ruby eyes narrowing to slits, she sends a blast of power towards Bella like a whip, her jaw clenched as she strains to penetrate the shield.

Bella simply grins more broadly, displaying her gleaming white teeth, as the yellow-orange of her irises sparks like the first embers of a building inferno.

Any semblance of humanity vanishes entirely from Jane in the aftermath of Bella's taunt. Her childlike features distort into an animalistic snarl, and a piercing screech erupts from her mouth, startling everyone – even her twin brother.

The constant stream of thought linking the ancients stutters for a fraction of a second, then resumes. Outwardly, the black-robed trio is as motionless as ever.

The cowl falls back from Jane's cropped brown hair as she coils to spring – our front line tenses automatically – but Alec seizes her arm, halting her advance. _Calm yourself, sister._

She whirls to face him, the primal expression still twisting her youthful appearance, and his eyes widen meaningfully, issuing a silent warning.

At the rear of our group, a pair of low voices chuckle gleefully. "I told you this was our time," Vladimir murmurs to his brother, rubbing his thin hands together in anticipation.

Stefan sniggers in reply, "Just look at the witch's face."

Holding her twin's gaze, the fight seems to drain from Jane's small frame, and her shoulders slump, a sullen pout puckering her lips. Though inside, she continues to seethe like an awakening volcano, her lust for causing pain eating at her blackened mind like a cancer.

Alec releases his grip on her elbow and pats her shoulder comfortingly. _I will take care of them,_ he promises her. Gently wrapping an arm around her, he pulls Jane to his side and lifts his face to us, his expression perfectly smooth. The undercurrent of his thoughts changes subtly – building with a low thrum of energy that I have never before felt – but that is because I have never witnessed his gift firsthand.

The others begin to shift in apprehension, wondering what will happen next. Beside me, Bella's breath quickens, and she fidgets nervously at the same time that her fingers tighten around my hand. "Are you okay?" she gasps in a strangled, frightened voice.

I turn my head fractionally towards her, keeping Alec and the Volturi guard in my peripheral vision. "Yes," I whisper, stroking the inside of her palm with my thumb, but her hold does not slacken.

"Is Alec trying?" Her stare flits sideways for an instant. Those around us listen in unashamedly, the tenor of their minds stretched taut like bowstrings prepared to snap at a moment's notice.

Monitoring the swell of power in his mind, I nod in confirmation. The only description I can come up with for the way Alec's talent works is that, where his sister's is similar to black fire, his is comparable to a gathering storm. "His gift is slower than Jane's," I tell Bella under my breath. "It creeps. It will touch us in a few seconds."

Kate spots it first. Topaz eyes widening, she stares at the expanse of white dividing the field, and her nostrils flare. _Here it comes,_ she thinks, inhaling sharply.

Just above the glittering surface of the snow, the air shimmers, resembling the surreal state of a mirage as it rises from the desert. The translucent mist approaches as though propelled by an intangible breeze, warping the cloaked figures behind it like looking through a glass of water.

Jacob lets out a strange, rough mewl, his tail sweeping wide once over the ground. _Should I run?_ he asks himself. _Bella told me to wait until they're distracted – but what if that stuff keeps me from getting Nessie away from here? Edward said it cuts off all your senses at once…_ Deciding on a compromise, he starts to edge away from the front line, positioning his massive red-brown body near the center of our formation.

_I'll stop it._ Benjamin raises his chin, focusing swiftly on a single aspect of his incredible ability, and the earth shivers faintly beneath our feet, heeding his call. A second later, a fierce gust of wind hurls clouds of powdery snow into the space separating us from the Volturi.

Several of the guards blink in surprise while Benjamin throws the wind at the mist, attempting to blow it aside, but to no avail. As with Jane's gift, the mist is just a visual representation of a psychological attack, and it can only be averted by another mental ability.

I start to turn around, to tell Benjamin not to waste the effort in fighting something that does not truly exist – when a deep roar knifes through the wintry morning and the ground quakes violently.

Startled, the ancients drift apart, and most of the guard in front actually take a step back as the earth splits open in the middle of the clearing with a loud crack. Rivulets of snow spill into the narrow crevice, and all present look on in avid fascination as the mist draws near to the opening.

Of course, as I had predicted, the shimmering haze floats above the fissure with ease.

Frustrated, Benjamin commands the ground to part further, trying to capture the mist by the inescapable force of gravity.

Aro gazes wide-eyed at the trembling, exposed rock, and his tongue touches his upper lip as though savoring a particularly decadent flavor. _Command of the elements…_ he sighs inwardly. _It's no wonder that Amun hid him from us for so long._

Caius, meanwhile, examines the jagged gap with hardened crimson eyes, his thoughts wild in expectancy, apprehension, and grudging awe. _Impressive. But such talent will be of no use once Alec immobilizes them,_ he assures himself.

_It won't stop!_ Benjamin growls low in his throat, continuing to summon blasts of cold wind to combat the mist, but it is not hindered in its path towards us.

Beside her twin, Jane smiles in vindictive pleasure. _Your end has come,_ she says to me, her cheeks dimpling, and purses her lips in a mocking farewell kiss.

But then the mist remarkably…stops.

No, not stops.

It is repelled.

Tendrils of the hazy vapor undulate sinuously across an invisible wall, spreading out on either side and creeping upward as it attempts to reach our half of the clearing. The mist curls around the wolves flanking our gathered witnesses about two or three feet from their bodies, following a smooth curve, and Seth lowers his head to sniff at the ground, incredulous as to what is keeping it at bay. At the same time, the shimmering air flows above us like water spilling over a boulder, and heads turn rapidly in every direction as the intangible dome-like shield encircling the group is finally brought into view.

I feel my expression lift into a wide grin, a rush of pride and admiration flooding my chest. Astonished, Carlisle lets out a gusty breath, gaping open-mouthed at the size of the barrier. Emmett cranes his neck to look upward where the mist is beginning to blend with the low-lying clouds, and Rose's quick gasp is echoed by Esme, Tanya, Kate, Eleazar, and several others.

"Well done, Bella!" Benjamin congratulates in a relieved undertone, and the wind ceases its frenetic howling, the stirred up snowfall glittering like diamonds as it flutters to the ground.

The sudden pandemonium inside my skull as each mind tries to absorb what is happening causes me to pause for a half second and re-center my awareness before reading the thoughts emanating from the other side of the field.

A black, hate-filled scowl paints Jane's petite features, while her brother's empty expression wavers, his ruby-colored irises shadowed with doubt. _This…this has never happened before. I knew Jane was unable to harm the newborn but I thought that – _Alec frowns just noticeably, thin lines appearing upon his brow, and for the first time, there is deep concern reflected in his mind.

On either side of the two siblings, a chorus of shocked gasps breaks the stoic, disciplined silence of the Volturi guard. Eyes flare open in disbelief, and a few exchange wary glances with their neighbors as the possibility of entering a battle where they do not have the advantage begins to whittle down their collective self-confidence.

Amidst the ancients, Marcus surveys the scene with dispassionate attention, and Caius bares his teeth in an oddly revolted expression, hissing under his breath as his eyes find Bella's slender figure across the recently formed ravine. _How can one newly made have that much power? What_ is _she?_

Controlling his reaction with considerable effort, Aro's filmy stare widens very briefly while he absorbs the full extent of the shield, and then his amazement transforms into an insatiable hunger. _What a truly marvelous gift – the most powerful shield I have ever encountered, _he purrs, his pupils contracting as he devours my Bella with his eager gaze. _Imagine the possibilities if she were with us…_ His covetous thinking abruptly clouds with misgiving. _But because of her ability, all of our most talented are rendered helpless. We cannot hope for victory while she lives…yet it would be a great misfortune to lose such a priceless treasure. Needless to say _– he studies the fierce, vivid smile on Bella's heart-shaped face – _the game has indeed changed._

Her whispered words then pull me from Aro's chaotic, quicksilver thoughts, and I bend over her protectively as she declares, "I'm going to have to concentrate. When it comes to hand to hand, it's going to be harder to keep the shield around the right people." She knows that, in light of her actions, the Volturi will have designated her as the primary target, for if she falls, we will have lost.

Understanding the meaning behind Bella's statement, I nod in acquiescence. I could no sooner leave her side than defy the twist of fate that brought us together. Besides, defending her life has become an integral facet of my entire existence. "I'll keep them off you," I swear to her in a fervent voice. I would storm the very gates of hell if it would keep her safe, and none of those cloaked, earthbound demons will get close enough to even breathe in her scent.

She looks up at me quickly, the obstinate gleam in her amber eyes searing into mine, and refutes, "No. You_ have_ to get to Demetri." Seeing the surprise and undisguised panic on my face, Bella gives my palm a tender squeeze, murmuring with certainty, "Zafrina will keep them away from me."

The dark-skinned Amazon glides forward to stand beside Bella's right shoulder. "No one will touch this young one," she promises in her throaty contralto while leveling a keen ruby-colored stare in my direction. _I give you my solemn oath that your mate will be safe in my care,_ Zafrina adds mentally, and although I do not doubt her word or capabilities in the slightest, iron bands seem to wrap themselves around my ribcage, stifling the breath in my lungs. I may trust in the belief that Bella and I are forever bound as one, but it does not waylay my basest instinct to protect what I value most.

Two pairs of eyes – one beseeching, one resolute – examine my frozen features, and after a second's hesitation I incline my head, accepting the task of eliminating the Volturi's tracker while the center of my universe is left in another's hands.

Bella exhales very softly, the steely tendons of her hand loosening a bit in my grasp. "I'd go after Jane and Alec myself," she remarks in a serious tone, "but I can do more good here."

Hissing dangerously, Kate stakes her claim. "Jane's mine. She needs a taste of her own medicine." _And I am just the one to give her what she deserves. _The spread out fingers of her hands fizzle with electricity as she bends lithely into a stalking crouch.

_Our revenge is at hand._ Vladimir growls out from his place near the back, "And Alec owes me many lives, but I will settle for his." The Romanian's thoughts are bathed in dark loathing and the crimson hue of bloodlust. "He's mine."

"I just want Caius," Tanya announces in a flat voice. _My sister's murder will not go unpunished._

Emmett sighs exaggeratedly. _Well, hell_ – he gripes in a teasing manner – _I guess I'd better pick before all the good ones are gone. _"I'll take Felix, then. For starters." He grins the feral smile of a predator.

"I can handle the shield," Rose speaks out a beat later, her contemptuous topaz glare fixed on Renata's anxious face. "That way, Aro will be left wide open." Her eyes flick sideways to Carlisle, wondering what he intends to do during the battle, and stiffens as his expression – turned towards the opposite end of the field – registers grim recognition.

A feathery, reserved voice then pronounces suddenly, "Before we vote."

Angry mutters and low snarls follow Aro's words, and Bella jerks her head from side to side in heated denial, strands of her mahogany hair lashing against her cheeks and my arm, since she is still all but welded to my side.

The frail-looking skin on his face crinkles as he frowns sorrowfully at us, his unblinking gaze lingering on Bella and myself. _Surely we are all civilized creatures here,_ he appeals to me, _and can lay out some terms for negotiation._ Aro opens his arms wide and murmurs in a peaceable tone, "Let me remind you, whatever the council's decision, there need be no violence here."

Harsh laughter spews from my mouth, distorted by a cynical snort. Mere minutes before, the ancient had been considering which of my family – those who have a worthy skill to offer his coven – to spare from the carnage, and now he claims that there is no need for violence.

The only reason Aro is frantically recalculating his strategy is because my Bella has asserted herself as the most powerful vampire in this clearing, and he wants her ability more than eliminating the perceived threat of our family's bid for supremacy in the immortal world. But he cannot hope for the guard to achieve absolute victory against us while she uses her shield to protect our side from their strongest members.

He is afraid to lose this fight.

Burgundy eyes shift to mine, the thin black brows above them pulled together in a grieved expression, and Aro laments, "It will be a regrettable waste to our kind to lose any of you. But you especially, young Edward, and your newborn mate. The Volturi would be glad to welcome many of you into our ranks." _And any conditions you may have, my friend, will be granted,_ he inserts persuasively. _Whatever you request shall be yours…and I offer the same promise to anyone who accepts my proposition._ His attention drifts from face to face as he names in his wispy voice, "Bella, Benjamin, Zafrina, Kate. There are many choices before you. Consider them." His stare focuses once again on my wife and, so quickly that I scarcely notice it, two fingers on his right hand brush together – a signal.

Terrified to disappoint Aro again, Chelsea swallows hard and then locks her jaw, attempting afresh to bind threads of false loyalty from the ancient to those he has singled out. But the tendrils of influence quiver feebly against Bella's shield, unable to find a hole to worm through. And because we are protected from any manipulations, each of those Aro has presented his proposal to respond with their free will intact.

_I don't think so,_ Kate sneers, her balled fists crackling with static electricity.

Zafrina's thoughts rumble like the thunder that echoes daily in the skies above the rainforest she and her sisters call home. The refusal underlying this sensation is primal, rich in the elegant savagery that her ebony-skinned body exudes with each sinuous movement.

His expression hardened into a mask of grim animosity that seems out of place on such a normally cheerful face, Benjamin squares his shoulders and glares back at Aro without fear. _I have only just gained my independence from Amun,_ he remarks inwardly. _I will not consign my mate and I to the restricted servitude of the Volturi, no matter what temptation the old one may use to ensnare me._

And Bella merely gives the dark-haired ancient her angel's smile. The terrible beauty radiating from her countenance sends a white-hot jolt down my spine that spawns some unusual reactions within my body. My knees wobble unsteadily, my eyes widen in an urge to encompass all of her inside my gaze, and my mouth begins to water as a pool of desire heats the pit of my stomach. I shake myself mentally, reinforcing the reminder that I have a responsibility to my family, and tear my eyes from Bella to focus on Aro once again.

Obviously distraught by our uncooperative response, Aro's thin, cloaked form lifts in a noiseless sigh. _Then you leave me no choice,_ he thinks sorrowfully. "Let us vote, then." His feathery tone is quieter than before, and bathed in deep reluctance.

"The child is an unknown quantity," Caius speaks up without delay, his voice exultant as his pitiless crimson eyes sweep across our lines, imagining the pyres that will spring forth all around this field. His thirst for brutality outweighs his uncertainty over a more evenly matched fight. "There is no reason to allow such a risk to exist. It must be destroyed, along with all who protect it," he declares, a slow, triumphant smirk unfolding on his gaunt face.

I feel the reflexive tightening in the slender body next to mine, and a chorus of violent exclamations reverberates inside my head, followed by Tanya's surprisingly aloof visualization of her fingernails clawing at Caius' throat.

Aro gestures in invitation to Marcus, who raises his hazy, disturbingly vacant stare from the snow and breathes in a detached murmur, "I see no immediate danger. The child is safe enough for now." Through his gift, both he and I observe the thick, entangled web of emotion connecting every one of us to the other – an intricate tapestry more complex than any Marcus has encountered in his millenniums of existence. "We can always reevaluate later," he goes on indifferently. "Let us leave in peace." Then he lowers his eyes, fading back into the surreal mists that engulf his mind.

Despite his brother's contrary vote, Caius smiles even broader, positive that the Volturi have all but been assured of victory. _The newborn shall have to be the first to fall, _he tabulates to himself, _before Jane and Alec can be of any use. And once she is gone, we will exterminate the Cullens, and then perhaps offer the opportunity of surrender to the survivors._

_I will tear that one to pieces myself, _Jane fumes simultaneously, her enraged glare fixated on Bella.

Ever the pragmatist, Demetri eyes the spherical screen encircling our side, the mist still undulating all across its invisible surface. _Does the shield have physical capabilities, as well?_ he wonders. _If so, this will not be a stalemate, but a shooting gallery. Their offense will pick us off one by one._

_Just give me one chance at her, that's all I ask. _Felix licks his lips in anticipation, lust and violence creating a blood-red haze over his lewd thoughts as he watches Bella adjust her stance infinitesimally. I bite down on my tongue to stifle the possessive roar churning like acid in the back of my throat.

Folding his arms over his chest, Aro tilts his head in contemplation, pondering aloud, "I must make the deciding vote, it seems." Which had been his intention from the start, I am sure. _So much to consider, so much to gain…and much to lose, as well… But which is the greater sacrifice: principle or preeminence?_

It is at that moment, while I am tediously enduring Aro's philosophical waxing, that the slightest mental nudge interrupts my thoughts – almost like a delicate breeze wafting the gauzy curtains that cover the windows of our cottage.

At first, I am puzzled, because it appears to be coming from a great distance. Then I receive another nudge…and this time, it is more forceful. And a flash of imagery accompanies it: a cloudy yellow-white half moon, suspended above a drenched jungle.

A strange sense of familiarity takes root in my subconscious, and in the fraction of a second that passes as I blink my eyelids, shocked, I hear a musical, chiming voice call out, _Edward. Edward, it's really me._

A tremor ripples through me, stiffening my muscles. In my mind's eye, my memory constructs the face that I have studiously pushed aside for the last several weeks. High cheekbones, pointed chin, small nose, wide golden eyes, an impish grin, and a tousled halo of ink-colored hair – combined with a petite frame and enough vibrancy to illuminate even the blackest night – fills my vision and blots out the menacing sea of gray robes in front of me.

_I would never leave my family,_ she sends with staggering sincerity. _Not ever. I love you all too much. But I had to. And now, I'll show you why._

After five decades of silent communication between two atypical vampires, she is able to flood her consciousness – and mine – with an onslaught of images, each flickering past so swiftly that she repeats the sequence two more times in less than a second, ensuring that I have absorbed and understood each one.

I try to define the feelings coursing through me in that instant, and fail miserably. All I can fathom, as feral joy wells up within my chest and seizes control of my mouth, is that everything I had once considered lost has now been found. And victory belongs to us.

"Yes!"

My low, ferocious cry draws the attention of every single pair of eyes on both sides of the clearing. The guard mutters amongst themselves restlessly, troubled by my bizarre reaction, and my family voices a ceaseless stream of internal questions, prompting me to explain. Through my father's bewildered gaze, I can see the expression on my face…and it is the same resplendent, fearsome smile that had graced my Bella's full lips just a moment ago, before she turned to peer up at me in anxious confusion.

"Aro?" I call to the ancient, incapable of suppressing the elation that throbs wildly within my tone.

He scrutinizes me with a wary gaze, holding back his reply for a whole second, while his mind gauges the change in my demeanor in wordless puzzlement. Eventually, he says with apparent hesitation, "Yes, Edward? You have something further…?"

Breathing in a quick gust of air, I dampen my grin and the explosive excitement racing through my entire being, and then answer him amiably, "Perhaps. First, if I could clarify one point?" I inquire, raising my eyebrows with a polite smile.

_What are you trying to accomplish, my friend?_ Aro mimics my expression, though his deep red irises gleam shrewdly. "Certainly," he says in mild interest.

Caius starts a bit at his brother's response, indignant and furious. _This trial is over! Why does he insist on indulging these miscreants?_

_Edward, what is it? What have you heard?_ Carlisle stares hard at my profile, awaiting some sign from me that will justify my actions. Emmett grumbles irritably to himself about my so-called god complex as the others continue to pelt me with questions, and Bella grinds her teeth together – though her attention rests on Aro, who has leveled an expectant look in my direction.

I choose my words carefully, determined not to reveal the slightest hint of what is speeding towards us even as we speak. "The danger you foresee from my daughter – this stems entirely from our inability to guess how she will develop? That is the crux of the matter?"

"Yes, friend Edward." Aro bobs his dark head once in assent. His growing confusion, however, is evident in his inner musings. _This has already been established. Where does he intend to lead this discussion?_ "If we could be but positive…be_ sure_ that, as she grows, she will be able to stay concealed from the human world – not endanger the safety of our obscurity…" He trails off, lifting his shoulders in a faint, remorseful shrug.

Concentrating intensely on filtering the majority of my eagerness from my voice and masking the grin tugging at the corners of my mouth, I suggest to him, "So, if we could only know for sure, exactly what she will become…then there would be no need for a council at all?"

A slight frown wrinkles Aro's smooth brow. He is utterly mystified by my questions, and intrigued as to what I wish to accomplish through this conversation. "If there was some way to be_ absolutely_ sure," he reiterates quickly, the pitch of his wispy tenor rising with his bafflement. "Then, yes, there would be no question to debate."

Immediately, I press on. "And we would part in peace," a note of biting satire leaks into my words, "good friends once again?"

Aro fires back shrilly, "Of course, my young friend." _Tell me what you are planning in that fascinating, clever mind of yours. What have you discovered – some loophole in our judgment, perhaps?_ "Nothing would please me more," he declares.

I can no longer hold back the triumphant smile threatening to dislodge the courteous expression on my face. A whirlwind of heightened curiosity and disquiet swirls inside the myriad thoughts filling my head as I chuckle jubilantly, the bright sound unsettling the Volturi even further. "Then I do have something more to offer," I tell Aro, my fingers flexing around the small palm that is the source of my strength, my joy.

A sudden glint of bare, snow-covered trees flickers across my vision. _We're nearly there; less than a minute left. Keep him talking, Edward._

The ancient narrows his eyes at me, the wind stirring the velvet folds of his black cloak. "She is absolutely unique," Aro murmurs, as though I have forgotten my own daughter's extraordinary nature. "Her future can only be guessed at."

Slowly, I shake my head, disagreeing, "Not absolutely unique. Rare, certainly, but not one of a kind."

This revelation has the exact affect that I had anticipated. An uproar of mental voices swells in my mind – some displaying rejection, others electrified by shock, and several of the most familiar begin to share the same small seed of hope, unfurling like a tender green shoot in the once bleak landscape of our future.

Bella twitches very slightly beside me, surprise and determination vying for control on her heart-shaped face. The white skin of her throat tightens as she locks her jaw, her amber eyes paradoxically distant yet focused, and I would guess that she is struggling to maintain her shield in the midst of so much emotional turmoil – which does not go unnoticed by her most merciless opponent.

_She is faltering. I can see it._ Jane shrugs out of her twin's arm and minces forward a half step, her red stare cutting through the icy winter air as she hurls a psychic blast at the protective dome, the energy skittering along its edges with renewed ferocity.

With a massive effort, I exercise the restraint necessary to keep me from attacking the little vampire and tearing her head from her shoulders, and instead address her master in a civil tone, "Aro, would you ask Jane to stop attacking my wife? We are still discussing evidence."

Enthralled by my cryptic argument, the ancient lifts one bony hand. "Peace, dear ones," he breathes. "Let us hear him out." Then he nods for me to continue.

Jane withdraws her assault resentfully. In spite of her desire for revenge, she would never consciously disobey a direct order. Cursing in her bitter thoughts, she bares her teeth at Bella in a mute snarl. I cannot help but smirk as Bella grins triumphantly back at her, the stubborn tilt of her chin feeding the wellspring of hope in my chest.

_Now, Edward._ The chiming voice peals like church bells inside my head, urgent and impatient.

My smile widens, and I call out loudly, the euphoric words resonating throughout the frozen field, "Why don't you join us, Alice?"

Her name triggers a maelstrom of frenzied thought.

Dazed, Esme leans heavily on Carlisle's shoulder, her golden eyes huge with shock. "Alice," she says in a trembling whisper. _Can it be…?_

"Alice!" Rosalie mouths, turning to gape incredulously at Emmett. His astonishment swiftly transforms into a broad smile of joy, and he drops one lid in a jaunty wink.

Tanya and Kate exchange startled looks. "Alice!" they gasp in unison, while Eleazar seems utterly dumbfounded and Carmen covers her lips with her fingers, inhaling sharply.

A number of stunned voices create a staggered chorus of my sister's name, and the large black wolf on the right side of our group tilts his furry head, baffled, as Seth crows gleefully within the pack's mental link and Jacob points his muzzle towards the southwest, detecting a faint trace of hyacinth and vanilla on the wind, mingled with a few unfamiliar scents.

Then a breathy, licentious whisper weaves like a poison through the joyful exclamations. "Alice." _She has returned,_ Aro celebrates, his mind a disconcerting mixture of greed, yearning, and curiosity.

Faint rustling sounds and an out of place rhythm reaches the clearing just seconds later. All ears attune themselves to the echoing noises, once again waiting in suspense for the arrival that will turn the course of this entire confrontation.

I swing my gaze to the southwest corner of the field right before Alice slips through the low branches of two snow-laden firs and soars into view with her usual grace. Her topaz eyes touch on mine for an instant, and though her expression is blank, her bright irises sparkle meaningfully at me.

Bella exhales loudly, her stare impossibly wide as she watches her best friend and sister enter the clearing, and then I hear the muffled click of her teeth snapping together, as though she is exerting herself with a difficult task.

In Alice's petite shadow, Jasper hovers protectively – in full battle mode – his eyes flicking in every direction and his mouth set in a fierce, hard line. Those in the guard that have not seen my brother before start in surprise and apprehension when they notice the feathery upraised scars covering his bare arms and neck, and a few of the more burly cloaked figures adjust their posture to meet him head-on.

Only a short distance behind them is a trio of unfamiliar faces. Both Zafrina and Senna expel a quiet breath in unison as an exotic-looking female, her skin the same polished onyx hue as theirs and with dark hair semi-tamed into dreadlocks, appears beside Alice. Coming to a stop, Kachiri peers over a shoulder at the two following in her wake.

After the Amazon, the olive-skinned female that arrives next seems especially diminutive. Her face is round, highlighting her large, deep red eyes, and the strong curves of her features strikes a chord in my memory. I watch her carefully as she lingers close to Kachiri, her long braid of glossy black hair trailing over one shoulder.

Alice catches me staring and sends a brief explanation. _Her people reside in the jungles of South America…not too far from the Ticunas._

Finally, the last of their entourage bursts into the clearing – a young man whose flowing movements are not as swift nor as graceful than the others – but his cocoa-colored skin is vaguely lustrous, and his irises are neither scarlet or gold, but warm yellow-brown. His thick black tresses are arranged in rows of braids all over his head and gathered at the nape of his neck in a short tail that ends between his shoulder blades.

Satisfaction bursts like fireworks within me when the rhythm everyone had detected earlier is at last discovered, and the implications sends waves of shocked realization through the crowd, for it is a heartbeat, quickened by exertion and stress.

Once their small group is together again, Alice darts forward and leaps over the shimmering mist that has thinned but not dissipated and enters the domed shield generated by Bella. Though she has seen its effects in her visions, Alice still spares a half second to comment,_ I always knew she was powerful. Maybe now she'll actually believe it._ Then she halts fluidly at my side, and in that moment, it is like her unexplained absence never happened. My sister is _here,_ with our family, where she belongs.

I quickly brush my fingertips along her forearm in wordless greeting. Bella reaches around me to place a light touch on Alice's back, and Esme and Carlisle extend their hands to clasp hers tightly for a fraction of a second, while at the same time Jasper, Kachiri, and the other newcomers enter the shield, as well.

_So it_ can_ be crossed._ Felix's overjoyed comprehension knifes through the pleasant haze of reunion, and his hopeful, predatory gaze centers solely on Bella.

Several of his compatriots also note the fact that Bella's shield can be breached physically and coil their massive bodies to spring. But it is Felix that continues to goad the slavering beast residing in the darkest parts of my brain. Envisioning my Bella in his clutches, he sneers, _Then she doesn't stand a chance. She's mine._

Clenching my free hand into a hard fist, I feel my entire body stiffen in outrage, the need for violence surging through my veins like fire, and I struggle to rein in my explosive temper.

Alice peers at me from the corner of her eye, warning, _Stay calm, Edward; we've been in this position before._ Her memories of our time in Volterra weave in and out of her thoughts. _Do not let them provoke you._

I forcibly will my anger to subside, taking in a slow breath, and then raise my chin to look steadily at Aro. He has not taken his eyes off Alice since she came into the clearing. "Alice has been searching for her own witnesses these last weeks," I tell him, certain that he is listening despite his fixation on my sister. "And she does not come back empty-handed. Alice," I glance sideways, my lips curving into a faint grin, "why don't you introduce the witnesses you've brought?"

Caius' vicious snarl is repeated in his mind. "The time for witnesses is past!" He turns on his brother, demanding, "Cast your vote, Aro!"

_All in good time…_ Holding up a single finger, Aro gestures for quiet, and arches his eyebrows slightly at Alice in anticipation.

The future wavers like dark glass in Alice's thoughts, the reflections of coming events still too undefined to make out clearly, but she is confident as she steps forward, motioning with a hand to the newcomers. "This is Huilen and her nephew, Nahuel," she introduces, placing a subtle emphasis on the familial title.

A disturbed rumble of sound rises up from the Volturi witnesses, and Caius narrows his crimson eyes, more troubled than he will admit. _Nephew…? How is it that our world has been skewed from its axis and we are completely ignorant of it?_ The powerlessness he is beginning to feel chafes at him like an open wound.

Intrigued, Aro shifts his gaze almost unwillingly from Alice to the little olive-toned female and commands, "Speak, Huilen. Give us the witness you were brought to bear."

Swallowing once, the petite woman glances at my sister worriedly, as though seeking permission. Alice gives her silent support with a nod, while Kachiri lays her dark palm on the woman's thin shoulder. Then the small vampire draws herself upright and announces, "I am Huilen." Her accent is more exotic than Kaure's, flavoring her soft mid-tone voice with a timeless, otherworldly timbre. I commit its melody to memory so as to distinguish her thoughts from the symphony singing endlessly inside my head, and settle in to hear her tale.

"A century and a half ago, I lived with my people, the Mapuche," Huilen begins in an even, obviously well practiced manner. "My sister was Pire. Our parents named her after the snow on the mountains because of her fair skin." A hazy impression of a young woman's face swims into view; what I can make out is quite stunning, by human standards, at least. "And she was very beautiful – too beautiful." A dark undercurrent threads its way through Huilen's words. "She came to me one day in secret and told me of the angel that found her in the woods, that visited her by night. I warned her," Huilen sighs, shaking her head sadly. "As if the bruises on her skin were not warning enough." Pale flesh marred by splotches of purple and blue fills her mind, and the barest shiver travels along my spine as I remember painfully the similar bruises that had decorated my precious bride's once perfect body after our wedding night. But I wrest myself from those memories and concentrate on Huilen's story. "I knew it was the Libishomen of our legends, but she would not listen. She was bewitched."

"She told me when she was sure her dark angel's child was growing inside her. I didn't try to discourage her from her plan to run away – I knew even our father and mother would agree that the child must be destroyed, Pire with it." A distant sense of urgency fills her voice as she continues. "I went with her into the deepest parts of the forest. She searched for her demon angel but found nothing. I cared for her, hunted for her when her strength failed. She ate the animals raw, drinking their blood," Huilen reveals, and bloodied lips smeared with scraps of meat punctuates her statement. "I needed no more confirmation of what she carried in her womb. I hoped to save her life before I killed the monster." She pauses for a beat, still grieving after a century and a half for the sister she lost, and the wispy image of a slender hand caressing a swollen, black-and-blue belly accompanies her next words. "But she loved the child inside her. She called him Nahuel, after the jungle cat, when he grew strong and broke her bones – and loved him still."

_Sounds familiar,_ Jacob remarks very quietly. He and I both suffered along with Bella during her pregnancy, and he damps down his thoughts out of respect, knowing that those weeks were literally my own personal hell on earth.

Huilen then admits mournfully, "I could not save her. The child ripped his way free of her, and she died quickly, begging all the while that I would care for her Nahuel. Her dying wish – and I agreed." Graphic flashes of scarlet-stained dirt and ragged strips of tissue pierce her consciousness, swiftly followed by the mental picture of a tiny, wriggling infant being reached for by a pair of gore-splattered hands.

"He bit me, though, when I tried to lift him from her body," Huilen goes on, wincing a little in remembrance of the excruciating pain – and I blink in surprise. This Nahuel is venomous, though Renesmee is not? But how, and why?

Chiding myself that these are questions for a later time, I return my attention to the story.

"I crawled away into the jungle to die. I didn't get far – the pain was too much. But he found me." Wonder lightens her tone, along with a hint of pride, as she speaks of her nephew. "The newborn child struggled through the underbrush to my side and waited for me. When the pain ended, he was curled against my side, sleeping."

"I cared for him until he was able to hunt for himself," Huilen says softly, evoking visions of a rapidly changing young boy with warm brown skin and her sister's eyes. "We hunted the villages around our forest, staying to ourselves. We have never come so far from our home, but Nahuel wished to see the child here." Finished with her narrative, Huilen lowers her head and inches backward until she is nearly out of sight behind Kachiri's towering form.

Aro's lips are pursed, the expression caught somewhere between thoughtfulness and embittered, as he mulls over this particular revelation. Filmy red eyes swinging abruptly to the young man lingering close beside Huilen yet displaying not the slightest hint of apprehension like his aunt, the ancient inquires, "Nahuel, you are one hundred and fifty years old?"

"Give or take a decade." Nahuel's accent is scarcely detectable; his voice is smooth and musical. "We don't keep track." Renesmee, astride the massive red-brown wolf, leans forward with keen interest when the other hybrid begins to speak. Jacob growls under his breath, wordlessly urging her to stay put.

"And you reached maturity at what age?" Aro watches the youth intently.

In an offhand tone, Nahuel replies, "About seven years after my birth, more or less, I was full grown."

_Seven years…_ My father quickly calculates Renesmee's slow decline in growth rate inside his head, filling in the missing variable that Nahuel has provided us with, and then affirms in stunned relief, _It adds up._

Speculating, Aro asks another question, looking for clear confirmation of what we all can see with our own eyes. "You have not changed since then?"

Nahuel lifts his shoulders in a casual shrug and answers, "Not that I've noticed."

An arm's length away, Jacob trembles convulsively in reaction to this news. _He hasn't changed in over a hundred years._ Sparks of joy flutter wildly in his thoughts, vivid with life and color, and the low thrum of his heartbeat accelerates as he marvels in disjointed sentences, _Nessie's not going to die – she's gonna be okay – and she'll be perfect forever… She won't die, ever…_

My family restrains their emotional responses as much as they are able, striving to focus only on the present circumstance, but Rose's fierce relief trickles through her stoic mindset like a life-giving spring carving its path into a barren desert. At my side, Bella stays completely motionless, her amber eyes flitting between Aro and Nahuel as the pair resumes their question and answer session.

The incessant curiosity that the ancient vampire persists in satisfying compels him to ask, "And your diet?"

"Mostly blood, but some human food, too." Though Nahuel is conversing solely with Aro, his gold-chestnut eyes wander around the field, like he is mildly amazed by such a vast gathering of immortals. "I can survive on either," he adds in an indifferent tone.

_Circumstances seem to have fallen out of our favor,_ Aro remarks with a touch of irony. _However…_ His stare cuts to Huilen, whose small form is hardly visible behind Kachiri, and he points one thin finger in her direction. "You were able to create an immortal?" he demands, low and intense. My jaw bunches in frustration; he is attempting to find another excuse for open aggression against my family.

But Nahuel disappoints Aro's reasoning. Speaking as though he cares not for what befalls us, he replies, "Yes, but none of the rest can."

A jarring burst of shocked mutters ripples outward from all three listening crowds. Among our group, only Alice, her small entourage, and myself remain passive as the others share wide-eyed glances or disbelieving words.

Bella stays frozen next to me, but her eyes blink quickly several times, like she is fighting the impulse to act surprised. Renesmee leans forward again on Jacob's back, her thoughts burning with a need to know more, and the russet-furred wolf carrying her actually treads a handful of cautious steps forward, his gaze locked on the male hybrid.

Meanwhile, Aro – whose eyebrows are raised so high that they have virtually disappeared into his hairline – manages to say in a careful voice that belies his astonishment, "The rest?"

"My sisters," Nahuel comments with another shrug. Deep within his mind, he is acutely pleased to have knowledge that startles even these elite immortals.

For a fraction of a second, Aro's composure melts. A bald, uncontrollable look crosses his papery-skinned face, his thoughts racing in a thousand contradicting directions, littered with vocabulary from half a dozen languages. Then, his features smooth out, and one notion takes precedence in his mind. _I must know more._ "Perhaps you would tell us the rest of your story," Aro suggests, but there is an undeniable command in his tone, "for there seems to be more."

A frown breaks through Nahuel's nonchalant demeanor. _What does it matter, whether or not I have siblings?_ he ponders to himself. _I have proved to them that this child is not a threat – and neither are my sisters, or myself. _The pattern of his thoughts shifts, becoming darker, and tinged with animosity. _But…if they intend to confront_ him_ about his 'experiments'…_ Making his decision, the young man explains, "My father came looking for me a few years after my mother's death." His upper lips curls very slightly, betraying the strength of his loathing towards his father. "He was pleased to find me." The reunion as Nahuel recalls it shows a tall, muscular man with cocoa skin and glittering ruby eyes, a vividly white smile parting his lips. "He had two daughters," Nahuel continues, "but no sons. He expected me to join him, as my sisters had." A pair of feminine faces – one as dark as his, the other caramel-colored – flash across his mind's eye.

"He was surprised I was not alone." Huilen's startled expression, distorting rapidly into a vicious snarl, then fills his head. "My sisters are not venomous, but whether that's due to gender or a random chance…who knows? I already had my family with Huilen, and I was not _interested"_ – he growls out the word – "in making a change." Inhaling a short breath, Nahuel reins in his anger and finishes his account. "I see him from time to time." _Though with no effort on_ my _part._ "I have a new sister; she reached maturity about ten years back." He folds his arms over his chest, certain that he has fulfilled his duty as a witness.

_A vampire perpetuating abominations like these half-breeds…_ Caius chokes back a furious roar, and spits through his teeth, "Your father's name?"

"Joham," Nahuel says immediately, his hatred apparent in his tone and narrowed gold-brown eyes. "He considers himself a scientist. He thinks he's creating a new super-race." Revulsion thickly coats the youth's description of the immortal who sired him.

Incensed by this breach in their vaunted rules of secrecy, Caius suddenly turns his head to glare at Bella. "Your daughter," he hisses, "is she venomous?"

"No," Bella answers curtly.

At the sound of her voice, Nahuel straightens with a sharp jerk, his gaze swinging sideways to focus on the slender woman clutching my hand. _She…_ His thoughts stutter erratically. _She is the girl's mother? And she…she lives…? _ The broken spurts of incomplete phrases and half-formed images erupt like fireworks in his mind – too quick for me to concentrate fully on interpreting – for Caius' eyes tighten at Bella's reply, doubting her truthfulness.

Glancing at his brother for verification, Caius is irked by Aro's thoughtful expression, but has no choice other than to hold his tongue and feign patience as the dark-haired ancient contemplates the Volturi's next move.

First, Aro purses his lips and stares at my father, musing, _As I had gathered before – Carlisle is totally unaware of the power he wields among this talented coven, and his innate righteousness prevents him from even seeing the possibility of his family seizing control from mine. Which he would never do_, he contradicts himself a half second later,_ for he is far more honorable than any of us. The true Stregoni Benefici…_

After praising Carlisle, Aro's hazy burgundy eyes meet mine. _You see and hear all, young Edward,_ he acclaims proudly. _Your gift has made you the touchstone of your family. And because I know that I cannot hide anything from your perception, I will confess that our original intentions for this…conference…have changed. Which is owed entirely to your lovely, extraordinary mate. _His gaze rests almost tenderly on Bella, as if he is a doting father watching his child come into her own and thrive in the world. _From the beginning, I knew – as you did – that she was special; a rare jewel among the trite, earthy mortals congregating on the earth. Now, she has become the strongest shield I have ever encountered…and she is only a newborn. Why, when she is as old as you –_

An irritated growl rumbles out of Caius, interrupting Aro's deliberations. "We take care of the aberration here," he insists, "and then follow it south." _Order must be restored to our civilization, or all that we have worked to uphold for the last two and half millennia will crumble to ruins. Make your decision, Aro!_

Ignoring his brother, the dark-haired ancient finishes his previous thought. _When she is as old as you, there will be no limits to what her gift can achieve._ His eyes rove over Bella's pale, delicate features briefly, like he is searching for something. _Such a terrible misfortune is would be to have her life cut short…a great loss, indeed… Yet, impasse or no, there is danger in leaving this place with so much hostility and untapped power intact. Perhaps Caius is right, and the situation must be dealt with here and now._

He meets Bella's heated yellow-orange glare, measuring her confidence in her ability and the ferocious devotion she has to our family and me. _On the other hand_ – his lips flatten infinitesimally – _to cross this coven at present would most assuredly invite disaster, on both sides. Young Bella cannot survive if we wish to be victorious, and I foresee no feasible means to negotiate for her relinquishment to us – along with her mate and dear Alice. And since we have no guarantee of success on any front…_ The gleam in Aro's ruby-colored irises slowly dies, and his expression becomes resigned. _I have only one logical choice._

In his soft, feathery murmur, he says to Caius, "Brother, there appears to be no danger. This is an unusual development, but I see no threat. These half-vampire children are much like us, it appears." A faint half smile quirks Aro's mouth, and finally he removes his unnerving gaze from my Bella, turning to peer at the scowling white-haired immortal beside him.

Caius stifles the desire to unleash a toxic stream of curses, demanding instead, "Is that your vote?"

"It is," Aro replies serenely.

Caius' frown deepens, but his psyche is undoubtedly relieved despite his push for a show of violence. A smirk finds its way to my lips, lifting one corner in dark amusement. The rare prowess Bella has demonstrated greatly unsettles the Volturi as a whole. They are not used to being on equal footing with their opponents.

A joyous squeal twinkles like stardust inside my head. _It's decided!_ Alice crows, watching the flickering future materialize as a vision of dark cloaks dissolving into the shadows of the forest.

Still seeking an outlet for retribution, Caius snaps, "And this Joham?" _By all rights a heretic more perverse than these human-loving fools._ "This immortal so fond of experimentation?"

Aro hums quietly under his breath. "Perhaps we _should_ speak with him," he concedes with a nod.

Immediately concerned for the kin that he does not hold in contempt, Nahuel interjects in a hard voice, "Stop Joham if you will. But leave my sisters be. They are innocent."

Wearing a solemn expression, Aro inclines his head towards the young man. _Of course. Despite his…methods…Joham's hypothesis intrigues me. We have no cause to eliminate any of the hybrids; they are, in a way, the future of our race. _Renesmee's tiny, serious face appears in his mind, but he dismisses the image at once as he rotates to address the guard. "Dear ones," he calls out with a smile. "We do not fight today."

Gray hooded heads bob in unison, and offensive stances uncoil – some more swiftly than others.

Felix is the last to straighten up, his disappointment plain on his broad features.

With a slight tilt of his chin, Alec dispels the senses-deadening mist tickling the boundary of the shield and then links an arm through Jane's. Her sour pout twists her full lips for the blink of an eye just before Aro glances in her direction, and then she adopts a vacant, obedient countenance.

As the dark-haired ancient turns back to us, the guard rearranges their formation with the same precise elegance as when they had arrived, preparing to depart. Jane replaces the charcoal cowl on her head, and instantly blends in to the whole, her murderous inclinations fading amongst the low drone of the other minds in the clearing.

Near the northern edge of the forest, the Volturi witnesses cautiously begin to break apart – drifting one at a time into the icy cover of the towering trees. Yet as their group thins, the few stragglers move even faster; the last two or three quite literally flee the clearing in separate directions, their hasty footfalls disappearing into the distance.

Offering his open-faced palms to us, Aro exudes a deep sense of apology, while at the same time Marcus, Caius, and the guard glide swiftly away, the trodden snow the only evidence of their passage.

Aside from Aro, Demetri, Renata, and Felix remain – the personal defense for their cunning master.

"I'm so glad this could be resolved without violence," Aro announces benignly, his crimson gaze encompassing us all before latching onto Carlisle's tense face. "My friend, Carlisle –" Aro smiles with considerable warmth "– how pleased I am to call you friend again! I hope there are no hard feelings. I know you understand the strict burden that our duty places on our shoulders," he says, his tone contrite.

Diplomatic until the end, my father grants stiffly, "Leave in peace, Aro." Then, he reminds the ancient, "Please remember that we still have our anonymity to protect here, and keep your guard from hunting in this region." An unyielding undercurrent of steel surfaces in his words as he concludes speaking, making it plain that any more unannounced 'visits' will not be tolerated.

Mildly surprised by Carlisle's hard-edged statement, Aro nevertheless agrees, "Of course, Carlisle." _The camaraderie between us is forever altered by what transpired today – which I had anticipated – though not quite in this fashion._ He had expected to leave the Cullens either dismantled or impotent, and instead his greatest perceived rival has proven far stronger and better prepared than he had first thought.

_Checkmate._ Jasper barely smirks, his feral topaz eyes glaring at the seemingly remorseful ancient. He recognizes a defeat when he sees one.

Aro frowns in sadness, hoping to salvage some sort of mutual tolerance between our covens, and murmurs, "I am sorry to earn your disapproval, my dear friend." _Should you decide to come against us…_ The semi-frightened thought seeps through his rigidly controlled discipline before it is quickly choked off. "Perhaps, in time, you will forgive me," he finishes, still holding out his hands in silent offering.

But if Aro had been counting on Carlisle's vast store of benevolence, he is gravely mistaken. My father's expression seems to ice over, even as his brilliant gold irises smolder with righteous anger. _I will not stand for the Volturi's manipulative proceedings any more, _he vows sincerely._ I have no care for power, contrary to what Aro may believe, but neither will I allow my family and friends to be drawn into their web again. We _will _fight back against any further threats to our life here._ In a cold, even voice, Carlisle returns, "Perhaps, in time, if you prove a friend to us again."

Bowing his head, Aro lowers his arms, abasing himself for a moment while the implied retaliation in Carlisle's response fixes itself within his mind. When he lifts his eyes, the ancient begins to drift backward, his trio of protectors orbiting watchfully around him. _Until we meet again, my dear Cullens,_ he sends as one last farewell, his gaze flitting over to Bella once more, and then he finally turns and melts into the snow-sprinkled pine needles of the trees.

The Volturi's sycophantic consciousness shrinks from my perception as the miles lengthen behind them, and a wide grin splits my cheeks in the silence that blankets the field.

Half a minute passes, and then Bella leans into my side, asking in a tentative, hopeful whisper, "Is it really over?"

Everyone around us seems to hold their breath, wanting to believe in what had once seemed impossible.

The smile feels both foreign and wonderful on my face as I declare, "Yes. They've given up. Like all bullies, they're cowards underneath the swagger." Chuckling with more mirth than I have felt in weeks, I bend down to press a quick kiss atop Bella's dark head, happiness buoying my spirit so intensely that my granite body seems weightless and…_alive._

Alice's silvery, tinkling laugh joins mine. "Seriously, people," she teases as she spins around to look at the motionless crowd. "They're not coming back. Everybody can relax now." She winks impishly before opening her arms, as though she is expecting someone to fill them.

The quiet lasts for another second. Rounded pairs of scarlet and gold eyes blink in amazement, the steady hum of thoughts building into a deafening crescendo inside my head, and the two disgruntled vampires at the back of the group look at one another in frustration.

"Of all the rotten luck," Stefan grumbles. Vladimir huffs in agreement, grinding his teeth.

Then the clearing explodes in celebration.

Voices ring out with joyous cheers. The wolves throw back their heads and howl to the brightening winter sky.

Siobhan appears frozen in bafflement while Maggie thumps the imposing-looking woman on the back, grinning with enough radiance to light up the darkest night.

With a half-choked sob, Carmen sinks into Eleazar's offered embrace, laying her cheek on his shoulder as she weeps tearlessly, a contradicting smile curving her lips.

Benjamin and Tia reach for each other simultaneously, while Rosalie launches herself at Emmett, connecting their mouths and bodies in a manner more appropriate for a private setting, but I really cannot begrudge their shared ardor.

At the same time, Esme crashes into Alice's waiting arms and cradles my sister tightly to her breast, her eyes closed as she mutters fervently in Alice's ear the exact same thing she told me when I returned from Italy. "You will _never_ put me through that again."

Then, Esme pulls away – still keeping Alice locked under an arm – and reaches for Jasper.

Sensing the depth of her emotions, my brother goes willingly to her, holding Esme close with an affection that is rarely seen by any of our family save Alice.

After watching Esme reunite with their missing children, a contented smile on his face, Carlisle moves to greet Huilen and Nahuel – clasping their hands and thanking them for coming to our aid.

Kachiri has left the newcomers and rejoined her sisters. The three ebony-skinned Amazons interlock their hands and stand together in a tight circle, resting their foreheads against one another's in wordless relief.

As he lets out a loud whoop, Garrett sweeps Kate off her feet and, tucking her into his chest, whirls around in a dizzying spiral. She squeals and then laughs, enjoying a fleeting moment of abandon in spite of her grief over Irina's death.

When his lips descend upon hers, his enthusiasm is reciprocated tenfold, and it cements my earlier assumption of Garrett becoming a permanent member of the Denali clan.

With identical sullen expressions, the Romanians linger on the fringe of the celebration, ready to depart since their plans for revenge have not come to fruition. Stefan spits on the ground in disgust, and Vladimir shakes his head, pondering, _I suppose for now the Italian scum's cowardice will suffice as a precursor to our vengeance. We have time, after all, to make certain that we will be on hand when the Volturi challenge this coven again. And they will,_ he adds in dark expectation.

Together, he and Stefan dart into the southern edge of the forest. No one seems to notice their absence.

I dimly register all of this activity as Bella rips her hand from mine and is at Jacob's side in a flash, clambering halfway up his huge frame to pull Renesmee from his back. Our daughter wraps her small arms around Bella's neck with as much strength as she can muster and burrows into her embrace. I pull the two of them close as soon as Bella is settled on the snow-covered ground, my lungs filling deep with the scents of freesia, spicy-sweet warmth, and dog while I revel in the euphoria of cradling my whole universe in my arms.

Burying her face in Renesmee's bronze curls, Bella chants lovingly, "Nessie, Nessie, Nessie."

I hide my grin by kissing her hair, but Jacob barks out a rumbling laugh and pokes Bella with his nose. _I always knew she'd come around,_ he thinks with smug delight, and chuffs out a breath to ruffle her windblown locks.

"Shut up," she mumbles, though her words are void of any negative emotion.

Her heart fluttering like a bird's wings, Renesmee suddenly twists in her mother's hold and raises her head to look at both Bella and I. "I get to stay with you?" she demands, fierce hope blazing like a newborn star in her deep chocolate brown eyes.

"Forever," Bella promises at once, that single word ringing with certainty, elation, and above all, love. Through our daughter's eyes, I watch Bella's heart-shaped face light up from within – her amber irises shimmering with streaks of pure gold, an incandescent smile parting her full lips – and as Renesmee grins back at her, I become convinced that the gates of heaven cannot be more beautiful than the unabashed joy of these two angels.

And I also realize that the heaven I had been so reluctant to believe existed for one like me has come down and transformed this world into a paradise that I thought would never be.

My heaven is, at last, here.

"Forever," I murmur in Bella's ear, adding my own voice to her pledge.

Her breath hitches, and then she raises her head to meet my eyes. The sheer joy in her expression causes me to lose my equilibrium, and my arms flex instinctively around her and Renesmee.

For one infinite moment, I see the span of eternity inside Bella's scorching, glowing gaze, and the unparalleled bliss of knowing that we have overcome the final obstacle, that there are no more swords poised above our heads, intent on dooming us – that we truly have until the end of time together – chases every shred of coherent thought from my mind.

All I am aware of is the heat and passion blazing like fire in her eyes, and then the flames consume us both as she lunges upward on her tiptoes and captures my mouth with hers, rejoicing with me in a way that transcends anything happening around us.

It is stars colliding, heaven's gates opening wide, the vivid sunrise of a new day, and the miracle of creation rising from the ashes of despair.

Most of all, it is the exultant intertwining of two souls, who have finally been granted permission to remain as one, and been blessed with a happiness so intense that there are no shadows left to decay in the deepest caverns of my being. Hope now has a permanent foothold in my heart.

I am reborn, with Bella.

Nothing can ever or will ever separate us. And death has no power over our daughter, either.

We will all be together.

Forever.

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**Author's Notes:** The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 725-741.

I owe tremendous thanks to each and every one of you for your patience, and continued support. Though I make an effort to respond to many reviews, I would like to take this opportunity to say just how much I appreciate everyone's words of praise, encouragement, and even constructive criticism. You all have a part in this story's creation, and I am so grateful for that.

I would also like to thank all of those who voted for _Metamorphosis_ at the Bellies and the Indies Awards. As amazing as it would have been to win, I was so honored to have my story selected as a finalist, and I offer my congratulations to the authors who received well-deserved acclaim for their work.

Finally, I cross my heart and promise that I will not keep all of you waiting this long for the next update. The finale is something that I have really looked forward to writing, and now we've arrived! Can I just say, wow?


	21. The Happily Ever After

**Chapter Notes:** I will save most my blabbering for the author's note at the end. But I will take this moment to say that this chapter is both heaven and hell wrapped up in a single package. The dichotomy of finishing this story is incredibly emotional for me, and I hope that emotion fills each and every word.

Though it is something I have never done before, this chapter has a playlist. These are songs that inspired me while writing, and I feel they are due some much-deserved credit for helping me overcome writer's block.

"_Brightest Hour (Morgan Page Remix)"_ by The Submarines

"_Real Life Fairytale"_ by Plumb

"_Your Love Is A Song"_ by Switchfoot

"_Giving It Away (Acoustic)"_ by Mae

"_This Is Beautiful"_ by Tyrone Wells

"_The Twilight Saga: New Moon – The Score"_ by Alexandre Desplat

I also want to say thanks to **opsable** and **EdsBells**, who are working on translating this story into Spanish and German, respectively. Thank you so much!

So, without further ado, here is the final installment of _Metamorphosis._

Enjoy.

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The uninhibited rejoicing that permeates the clearing is so powerful that Benjamin, in the spirit of pure glee, summons a massive gust of wind to break apart the purple-gray winter clouds hanging low in the sky. Pale gold sunlight streams through the pearl-colored gaps and dances across the field, the icy sparkles of the snow underfoot nearly lost in the brilliant glitter of twenty-eight vampires' iridescent skin.

For the sake of propriety, and of the little girl now sandwiched between us, I reluctantly part my lips from Bella's fevered kisses, pulling in a breath of chilled air to help cool the passion simmering inside me.

Panting, her eyelids flutter open, and the obvious desire raging within her amber eyes almost causes me to bend down to her mouth once again.

With a tiny half-smile, I loosen my arms from around her and Renesmee and lean back on my heels.

The empty spot beside us indicates that Jacob has retreated into the forest – most likely to phase – and the wolves' numbers are reduced by half. Sam must have ordered his pack to return to the reservation; it troubled both him and Jacob to leave their people without protection, but every wolf was needed while we faced the Volturi.

To my right, about half a dozen feet away, Randall and Mary are bidding their farewells to Carlisle.

While Mary embraces my father, Randall catches my eye and gives a slight nod. _I had my doubts about getting caught between your coven and the Volturi, _he thinks to me,_ but now that it's over…I'm glad that I stuck around. Your little female is quite a prize. _The corner of his left eye crinkles as he grins lopsidedly.

Having never been truly connected to anyone, the nomad cannot understand that Bella owns me more completely than any claim I have upon her. Body, mind, soul…everything I am is hers.

Renesmee waves at Randall and Mary as they depart, beaming her startling, vivid smile, and Jacob bounds back to us an instant later, his entire being radiating deep joy.

Issuing a wildly exuberant cry, he manages to extract Bella and Renesmee from my arms by wrapping his own around them. My daughter giggles as Bella allows herself to be picked up, the toes of her shoes grazing the powdery snow covering the ground.

Jacob sets them down after a moment and busses his russet-skinned cheek against Renesmee's, then raises his head to peer at Bella, his black eyes sparkling. "So – we're still alive," he teases.

She makes a face at him, prompting a chuckle from both Jacob and myself. "It's really over," Bella says softly, like she is trying to convince herself rather than us, and reaches for me with an outstretched hand. I take it at once and swiftly return to her side. "I guess everyone's going to head home now." She glances up at me for confirmation, and I nod.

"Looks like some people have already left the party," Jacob remarks, frowning as he looks towards the south end of the clearing. "What happened to Dracula One and Two?"

"The Romanians were gone as soon as we started celebrating," I answer in wry humor. "They were extremely disappointed in the way things turned out; they had been counting on open war, after all." Like Caius, the ancient pair had hungered for a battle to erupt between our forces, but Vladimir's parting thoughts gave evidence that this outcome had appeased him and his brother to some degree. Smirking, I add, "Although they had enjoyed the Volturi's cowardice almost enough to make up for their frustration."

Jacob snorts, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, well, good riddance is all I can say." A cold shiver suddenly breaks into his thoughts, and he mutters to himself, _Though something tells me they'll be watching our every step from now on._

Thinking back to the last strains of thought that I caught from the Romanians, I am inclined to agree.

Then, like a flash of sunlight interrupting an overcast sky, his mind brightens with enthusiasm and he grins at the three of us eagerly. "Did you see how the Volturi reacted when Sam led the others onto the field? It was priceless!"

As Jacob launches into a gleeful spiel about his fellow wolves and how they had developed lines of communication between the two packs, I see over his shoulder that Esme has yet to release Alice and Jasper from her fierce, motherly embrace.

My sister is as content as ever, accepting Esme's affection with ease and returning it by coiling an arm tighter around her waist – but Jasper, for the first time that I can remember, seems totally at peace with his place in our family.

In truth, he has always felt like an outside observer in many respects – especially relating to the filial emotions that my siblings and I have for Carlisle and Esme. Neither of our parents ever treated him as anything less than one of their children, but Jasper usually shied away from any physical displays, thinking unjustly that he had no right to them. He saw me, Rosalie, Emmett, and even Alice as the ones who deserved parental affection, and he was…not comfortable, but accepting of that fact.

Now, I look on in amazement while he lowers his head to rest it against Esme's, his talent absorbing every modicum of love emanating from our mother like a plant taking in the life-giving rays of the sun. He then lays his arm across Alice's, adding weight to her hold, and she smiles up at him. With her free hand, she grasps his fingers, and the corners of his mouth twist into a grin…until a flicker of movement near the tree line behind her catches his eye.

Peter and Charlotte are anxious to depart now that their part is finished – yet Peter would like to speak to his old friend for a moment before he and his mate continue on in their travels.

The two fair-haired vampires appear to blend into the snowy landscape as they linger at the edge of the forest, both relieved that the confrontation did not escalate into a fight, although Charlotte's smug expression mirrors the thread of thought that reaches me. _I knew it was right that we stay and support the Cullens. He should listen to me more often._ She peers at her mate from the corner of her eye, lifting a pale eyebrow ever so slightly.

Gently extricating himself from our mother's hold, Jasper walks towards the pair, his grin a bit sheepish as he reads his old friend's scolding attitude. Peter extends his hand a beat later, and they grasp each other's forearm. "I don't know if I should be thanking you or telling you off," he remarks dryly, shaking his head. "But I think I'll just say that the next time you try to rope us into something involving the Volturi, give us a little warning beforehand."

"It all worked out, though." Jasper's smile tilts to one side. Out of respect for him, I pull away from their conversation and shift my gaze back to the focal point of my existence.

Bella is listening patiently to Jacob's yammering about the wolves, one finger idly twirling a strand of our daughter's bronze-colored curls, and I see her eyes flick once in my direction when she senses my stare. Her lips curve upward for a fraction of a second, too quick for Jacob to notice, displaying her fondness and exasperation and joy and overwhelming relief to me as easily as if I have access to her thoughts.

Perhaps after a hundred years, I will be so adept at reading her expressions that the undying curiosity and hunger for her mind will lose its potency.

Doubtful.

Even after a millennium, I will never unravel the fascinating mystery of this woman, the keeper of my soul. Why she chose me and how I can ever hope to become worthy of her are questions for which I have no answers, but I do know that she has always been far more than an average human – or vampire, for that matter. As she so clearly demonstrated today, Bella is a force of nature among the most powerful immortals in the world. That such a creature deigns to accept and even return my love is the greatest mystery of all.

But that is my ring on her finger, and my child in her arms, and I will use the rest of eternity to give her a piece of heaven – the heaven that I now believe is waiting somewhere for us. Surely there is no greater paradise than that.

And yet…what I want most is to hear the beautiful, convoluted workings of her mind _just once…_

"Edward."

Startled, I blink, and force my eyes from Bella just as Tia and Benjamin approach. Turning to them with a smile, I pick out their immediate plans from Benjamin's head and chuckle. "It shouldn't take you too long to catch up with Amun – though he's probably halfway to the Sinai Peninsula by now."

Jacob heaves a sigh and crosses his arms over his chest, frustrated as usual by my half-finished conversations, while Benjamin snorts out a guffaw. "Probably," he agrees, "but he should know what happened here today. _Everyone _should know."

Zeal ignites in his voice like wildfire, his thoughts fizzling with excitement. "The Volturi were finally thwarted for the first time in _two thousand years._ They don't have the corner on ultimate power in the world anymore; they can be challenged. Things don't have to stay as they are." Free will is obviously a heady experience for the young man. Amun will find it very difficult to control him from now on.

However, there is a faint hint of presumption in his words that settles sourly in the pit of my stomach. "Yes, the Volturi have gone unchecked for too long, and perhaps it is time for change. But my family has no interest in taking their place. We have no desire to rule; our ambitions are far simpler, and more rewarding."

Smiling just a little, I let my gaze drift from Benjamin to touch on each member of my family.

Emmett and Rosalie are still wrapped up entirely in one another. Jasper has returned to Alice's side, whose hand is clutched by Esme even as Carlisle winds an arm around her waist. Finally, I look down at the heart-shaped faces of my most precious treasures, lovingly tracing the lines of their features with my eyes before coming back to Benjamin. "The Volturi were the ones who challenged _us._ We are only protecting what we value most: each other."

Bella's thumb glides across the top of my hand in silent empathy, and I am acutely aware of the circle of diamonds nestled between my fingers as she adjusts her grasp.

Benjamin is quiet for a moment, his thoughts muted, and the look on his youthful face is a strange combination of marvel, incredulity, and pride. "I guessed that would be your answer," he begins slowly, "but to hear you say it aloud…and with such certainty…" He beams broadly, and then casts a glance sideways at Tia. She smiles back with the same awed gleam in her scarlet eyes, her mental voice encouraging him to go on.

"If ever you need to call upon us again," Benjamin states formally, appearing far older than his physical age, "we will come without question. We would rather perish in the service of friends than live under the hand of the devil." Aro's pleasant smile floats through his mind, and he quickly erases the image.

At an unspoken signal, the two step forward to deliver their farewells. Tia leans over Renesmee and lightly kisses her forehead, breathing an ancient blessing of her people onto the little girl's flushed skin.

In response, Renesmee presses her fingertips to Tia's cheek, projecting her sadness to see them leave and her wish that they will visit us soon.

The caramel-skinned vampire smiles gently at my daughter and then straightens, meeting Bella's amber eyes. After a half second's pause, Tia repeats the same gesture with my wife. As she withdraws, she places her hand over her heart and bows respectfully.

Meanwhile, Benjamin takes hold of my right hand firmly, promising, "We will see each other again, my friend. And it will be under better circumstances." He winks, and releases my hand. Backing away several feet, he waits until Tia rejoins him before offering a final farewell. _"Fi Amanillah,"_ he says with deep sincerity, touching his fingers to his brow while inclining his head.

To honor them both in return, I copy his movements, replying, _"Ma'assalama."_

Flashing one last cheerful grin, Benjamin reaches for Tia's hand and the pair darts into the snow-laden trees to the south.

A loud _thwack,_ followed by Emmett's deep bellow of "Hey!" suddenly echoes across the field.

Spinning around, the three of us see my brother wiping a mound of powdery ice off the back of his head while Rosalie sends a death-glare over his left shoulder, specks of white clinging to her eyelashes and coating most of her golden locks.

"Whoops." Jacob brushes snow from his bare hands a few yards away and shrugs. "Sorry, Emmett. I was aiming for blondie. You guys passed up the R-rating a while back and there are children in the audience." He nods toward Renesmee, who covers her mouth with her hands to stifle a giggle.

"Dude," Emmett protests, jabbing a finger in our direction, "look who she's got for parents! That kid probably knows more about 'adult content' than you do!" _Wolf-boy's spending too much time hanging around Edward – uptight, sanctimonious –_

Bella sucks in a breath to throw back a biting retort, but I interrupt, commenting smoothly, "And yet, Bella and I have not been attempting to devour one another for the last twenty minutes."

Emmett starts to stomp forward, ready to speak the vulgarity that is polluting his mind…when a low, unbroken hiss rattles through the chilled air.

Teeth bared in a frightening grimace, Rosalie swipes a palm over one side of her blonde hair, collecting the bits of frost, and then that same hand balls into a white-knuckled fist. Jasper senses her temper flare and tries to level it off, fighting the urge to laugh all the while. "There. Is. _Snow._ In. My. Hair," she snarls quietly. "You got it _wet._ Now it's going to _freeze."_ She folds herself into a crouch and stalks around Emmett, her eyes locked on Jacob.

Not bothered in the least by the approach of a hostile vampire, he merely tucks his thumbs into his belt loops and arches his black eyebrows in mild interest. _This ought to be good,_ he snickers to himself.

Bella tenses beside me, gnawing on her bottom lip, while Renesmee stares wide-eyed at her aunt.

"Rosalie…" Esme warns, looking worriedly between Jacob and my seemingly irate sister. _Aren't you going to stop her, Edward?_

Alice and I share a brief glance. As if she has not been gone for weeks, she immediately reads the question in my expression and thinks, _I don't see any problems with letting this play out. Do you?_

I slowly look from side to side – our decades old form of communication – and nuzzle the crown of Bella's dark head to reassure her. Rose told me her intentions as she was threatening Jacob, and though it is highly unorthodox, my sister has her own particular brand of acceptance.

The guests that are still present watch with the rest of us as Rosalie halts within leaping distance of Jacob and lowers herself closer to the ground, her upper lip curled in disgust.

Catching nearly everyone by surprise, Rosalie scoops up handfuls of ice-caked snow and pelts Jacob with a flurry of snowballs. Astonished, he flails backward with a shout, barely keeping his balance under her relentless assault.

"I'll teach you to behave yet, dog," Rosalie crows triumphantly. Wisps of yellowed grass poke through the layer of ice at her feet, uncovered by all the snow she has thrown at Jacob.

Emmett gawks at her, and then a truly wicked grin lights up his expression. Jumping headlong into the fray, he whips snowballs at their chosen victim with the speed and accuracy of a major league baseball pitcher, cackling when Jacob tries to block his blows by curling his arms around his head.

"No fair!" he howls, bending down to grab a handful while still protecting his face.

"Who said we had to play fair?" my brother counters, hitting Jacob squarely in the midsection as he winds up to hurl a snowball at Rosalie.

Renesmee squeals and seizes hold of my sleeve, demanding mentally, _Help him, Daddy!_

Disguising his snigger with a low cough, Jasper picks up on the little girl's anxiety as well as my hesitance and decides to come to Jacob's aid. He swoops around the crossfire, gathering ammunition, and fires at his siblings with rapid precision.

"Thanks," Jacob mutters, shaking wet flakes of white from his hair.

Jasper replies by nailing Emmett with a trio of snowballs that land with a dull_ splat_ on his nose.

"Siding with the mutt over your own family?" Emmett shifts his footing to attack our brother directly, hefting a hard-packed ball of ice in his large palm.

Shrugging, Jasper balances two spheres in each hand and tells him, "I couldn't leave a fellow soldier outnumbered on the battlefield. Besides –" he tosses one snowball up in the air nonchalantly "– I was getting fairly nauseous from all the lust you two were broadcasting during your little display. I owe Jacob for sparing me from any more torture."

Indignation sparks in Rose's topaz irises, but it cannot hide her underlying mirth. "You do realize this means war," she remarks in an even tone. Her nails dig into the snow nestled inside her fists.

Jasper nods once. The almost eerie sense of calm filling up his mind is the same as when he is readying for a fight.

Jacob eyes the three of them warily, his muscles tensing while my siblings stand motionless, staring each other down, waiting to see who will make the first move.

In a simultaneous motion, all four combatants open fire, their dodging steps carrying them towards the eastern edge of the field where there is an abundance of fresh snow. A hazy cloud of glittering white surrounds their blurred forms, laughter erupting in spurts from the center of the melee.

Her tinkling giggles ringing out merrily, Alice skips over a moment later, adding her own throws to both sides, and soon the 'war' morphs into a free-for-all. I chuckle quietly at their antics while Bella shakes her head, smiling, and Esme effectively dismisses her usual embarrassment over her children's rambunctious behavior in the presence of guests from her thoughts.

When I peer sideways, intending to ask Bella if she would care to join them, I notice with some surprise that Renesmee has twisted in her mother's arms and is looking at something behind us, a wistful expression on her tiny face.

Concentrating solely on her unique mind, I am swept into the translucent vision of a richly colorful jungle, floating in front of the winter landscape. It flickers away after a handful of seconds, and then I hear the shared melancholy of the Amazon vampires, each one longing to return home.

I press my hand against the small of Bella's back to steer her in the direction of the dark-skinned females, still clustered together a short distance away, and she resists in confusion. "What is it?"

"Zafrina and her sisters would like to say goodbye," I murmur softly.

Understanding fills Bella's eyes and she follows my lead towards the trio, the crunching sounds of our footsteps suddenly too loud and ominous compared to the hilarity occurring twenty yards away.

As we draw near, Zafrina detaches herself from the others and glides sinuously forward, her exotic features solemn and tinged with sadness.

For almost an entire minute, the Amazon vampire's crimson eyes rove over each of us, lingering the longest on Renesmee, whose lower lip quivers faintly at the knowledge that she must say goodbye to her favorite playmate.

Sure enough, the little girl is the first to break the silence. "Do you have to go?" she asks in a small, forlorn voice. Bella rubs her back soothingly when she sniffs, the salty sweetness of tears filling the air.

Zafrina nods, replying in her usual straightforward way, "It is time. The battle has been averted, my sisters and I are together again, and we are anxious to return home." Her mouth twists into a frown, her spine twitching like the tail of a skittish cat. "It is…difficult to be away from our rainforest for so long. We miss the heat, the untamed wildness, and the solitude."

Fascinated, I listen more to Zafrina's thoughts and those of Kachiri and Senna while she is talking, and notice that their minds are so incredibly alike that the sensation of overlapping patterns reminds me of the pack psyche – separate consciousnesses being woven together to form a single cohesive unit. Each of the three Amazons is dwelling on some cherished aspect of their beloved rainforest, yet buried beneath the yearning is an undefined reluctance to leave.

This reluctance is addressed quite abruptly when Zafrina insists in a tone that broaches no argument, "You must bring the child to see me." She levels a firm but pleading stare at Bella, who blinks in bewilderment. "Promise me, young one," she urges, her throaty voice rough with emotion.

Renesmee's wet brown eyes grow wide in sudden hope, and she immediately presses a hand to her mother's throat. _Please? Please, Momma?_

"Of course, Zafrina," Bella answers with a soft smile. Our daughter beams at her joyfully, her quick mind already chasing after visions of adventures within the dense jungle, and I realize that we will probably be booking a flight much sooner than Bella anticipates.

The dark-skinned vampire lifts her chin in triumph, the tense lines of her elongated frame loosening as she exhales, and her bright irises glitter as she declares confidently, "We shall be great friends, my Nessie."

Bending down, Zafrina touches her forehead to the little girl's, vowing in her thoughts that they will see one another again soon. After she straightens, Senna and Kachiri materialize at her side, and the three of them incline their heads in farewell, fisting their right hands over their hearts. Then they vanish into the frozen woods.

I feel rather than hear my father's approach behind us, and both Bella and I turn to face him and my mother.

The acute relief and happiness shining within Esme's golden eyes is tempered with deep awe as she stares at my wife, resisting the impulse to put her arms around Bella for a tenth of a second so that she can once again bless the day this captivating woman reshaped my entire existence and fitted herself so seamlessly into our family. "Dearest Bella," she breathes, and pulls her close. Esme places a fond kiss on Bella's cheek then murmurs into her ear, "I am so very proud of you." Fierce, maternal pride radiates from every syllable, and I smile contentedly when Bella loops an arm around Esme and returns the embrace, accepting the praise that is undeniably due her.

Carlisle calls my name with his mind and smiles as soon as our gazes meet, holding out his right hand to me. I clasp it tightly, and we simultaneously lean towards one another for a hug.

Thumping me on the back, my father remarks inwardly, _A miracle has occurred here today, son, and I am not just referring to the Volturi's withdraw. _He pulls away a bit to see my face before continuing._ There is a change in you – a light that has only grown brighter in these last few weeks._ Joy broadens his smile while he studies my expression for a brief moment._ It is hope,_ he states with certainty,_ and my guess is that it's yet one more thing I owe the incredible young woman you married._

I nod in fervent agreement, and Carlisle squeezes my shoulder once before letting go, his kind topaz eyes shifting to the far right side of the field. Amusement colors his thoughts as a plume of snow shoots into the sky and the ground rumbles faintly beneath our feet. "It seems Jacob is quite capable of holding his own against your brother," he observes aloud, laughter in his mild tone.

Following his line of sight, my lips curve into a lopsided smirk at the spectacle unfolding to the east. Vampire and werewolf, two sides of an ancient enmity, are wrestling in the snow without the slightest trace of hatred. Emmett is undoubtedly keeping his full strength in check, though judging by the nearly identical grins on his and Jacob's faces, it is not an issue.

Several paces from the mock-brawl, Rose is brushing ice from her palms while Alice flops down in a cloud of white, spreading her arms and legs to make a snow angel.

Jasper chuckles quietly when Emmett, attempting to stand up, is toppled by Jacob latching onto his ankle – but then a sharp sting of grief ripples through his perception, smothering his mirth. Jasper's head twists toward the opposite end of the clearing, and he thinks a single word. _Irina._

The four members of the Denali coven including Garrett are gathered around a smudge of gray interrupting the pristine white covering the field. A huddled figure kneels in the snow in front of the burnt-out pyre, waves of strawberry and gold hair swirling in the breeze, and low whispers of a Slovakian prayer begin to weave through the muffled voices in my head. Tanya reaches out with a shaky hand and grasps a fistful of pale ash, cradling it to her chest with her other hand.

Once her sister's lithe frame starts quivering with harsh sobs, Kate slips out of Garrett's arm and falls to the ground beside Tanya. Their keening is a harmony of sorrow and loss that echoes across the bare treetops, prompting Alice and Rosalie to make their way over in the hopes of offering some consolation. Jasper trails behind them a few seconds later, using his talent to balance two extremes influencing the emotional climate blanketing the field.

A light touch lands on Carlisle's arm, and both he and I turn sideways in surprise. Laughing under her breath, Siobhan notes our similarly agape expressions and comments good-naturedly, "Like father like son." Then she fixes her attention solely on Carlisle. "We shall not impose on your family's hospitality any longer, my friend. But we will miss you all." The Irish vampire's intense ruby stare softens just noticeably as she extends her hand.

My father grips her forearm in farewell. _Bella's gift and Alice's arrival may have averted the war, but I know Siobhan had a hand in this, as well. Even though she will never admit it. _With a knowing glint in his warm gold irises, he offers her a word of praise. "Well done, Siobhan."

She snorts with dry humor and rolls her eyes. "Ah, the power of wishful thinking," she replies, sarcasm heavy in her lilting voice. Her thoughts suddenly darken, the hard lines of her features settling into the practiced stance of a wise leader. "Of course, this isn't over," she points out gravely, her fingers still wrapped around Carlisle's arm. "The Volturi won't forgive what happened here." Her eyes flit over to mine. _Your mate's ability has made your family a bigger threat than ever. Aro will not give up so easily._

Before my father draws breath to answer, I speak up, projecting as much assurance as I can draw upon in light of Siobhan's ominous warning. "They've been seriously shaken; their confidence is shattered. But, yes," I admit with a sigh, "I'm sure they'll recover from the blow someday. And then…" As I consider the possible strategies of the most insidious mind I have ever encountered, tension seeps back into my veins, flattening my mouth into a grimace. "I imagine they'll try to pick us off separately," I murmur in a low voice.

Bella's fingertips dig into my side, responding to the strain in my muscles and the implication behind my words. I lean down and brush my lips against her hair, the familiar gesture granting both of us a small measure of comfort.

"Alice will warn us when they intend to strike," Siobhan declares, her watchful eyes noting the stress that has begun to build within Bella and myself, and inserts mentally, _We need not worry about such things now. It may take the Volturi a number of decades to regain enough support to mount another assault. _"And we'll gather again," she states out loud. "Perhaps the time will come when our world is ready to be free of the Volturi altogether." She glances back at Carlisle, her rust-colored eyebrows arcing in expectation.

He inclines his head, concurring evenly, "That time may come. If it does, we'll stand together."

She gives him a soft-lipped smile, and the expression transforms her entire countenance into a gentler, though still daunting, persona. "Yes, my friend, we will." Her smile widens as she adds in a mischievous tone, "And how can we fail, when_ I_ will it otherwise?" Tossing back her mane of dark red hair, Siobhan lets out a ringing chorus of laughter, its melody soaring into the sky like a flock of birds.

Carlisle grins back at her. "Exactly," he responds, and the two share a kind embrace. After releasing Siobhan, my father shakes hands with Liam and nods at Maggie, and then says, "Try to find Alistair and tell him what happened." He quirks an eyebrow, and jokes, "I'd hate to think of him hiding under a rock for the next decade."

Laughing, Siobhan pivots on her heel and motions for her coven to follow. Little Maggie springs forward and throws her small arms around Bella and Renesmee for a quick hug before wheeling around to sprint after the others.

"I had you that last time, mutt. Admit it."

Everyone turns to look as Emmett and Jacob amble over, both of them covered with patches of caked snow, and Jacob's black hair drips wetly into his eyes. He tosses his head back and punches my brother's shoulder, grinning. "I would've found a way out." His mind replays the memory of Emmett's unbreakable hold pinning him in place on the ground. "I'd have taken you eventually," he claims smugly.

Snorting, Emmett gives him a playful shove, using enough force to make him stumble a little. "Yeah, right. I _owned_ you."

"Wanna bet?" Jacob crosses his arms and stares Emmett down, the challenge obvious in his tone.

A slow, wicked smile starts to creep across Emmett's face.

"Boys…" Esme says warningly.

Both of them relax their stances, looking appropriately shamed, but the mischievous glint in their eyes betrays their similar thoughts of making good on that wager sometime soon.

"Don't worry, Mom," Emmett says with a wink, "we're done. Besides, I think Bella pretty much tops us all in the ass-kicking department." He grins toothily at my wife and she ducks her head, embarrassed at being dragged into the spotlight as everyone's awed gazes focus in her direction. I gently kiss the crown of her head in an effort to console her. Pleased that he can still tease her into some amusing display of chagrin, Emmett chuckles and remarks honestly, "I'm glad you're on our side, little sister."

Bella is quiet for a moment, and then she squares her shoulders and looks up, her piercing amber eyes locking onto Emmett. The utter self-confidence in her expression is breathtaking to behold. "Just because I'm on your side doesn't mean I'll let you win our next arm-wrestling match," she tells him in no uncertain terms. A hint of a smirk tugs one corner of her mouth as she adds, "Big brother."

Carlisle and Esme laugh softly while Jacob erupts into loud sniggers; the contest of strength between Emmett and Bella is one of his favorite moments spent with my family.

Joining in with their mirth, I lower my head to the crook of Bella's neck and run my nose along her jaw line, inhaling deeply. A tremor skitters through her delicate body – as I knew it would. I hide my pleased smile in her hair and then breathe into her ear, "I love you."

Her tiny, sweet sigh in response ignites a low-burning warmth in the core of my being, yet I reluctantly pull away from the temptation of her silken skin. There will be plenty of time for our own form of celebration tonight.

A picture of Bella and I with Renesmee cradled happily in her arms floats to the forefront of the mental hubbub filling my skull, and Nahuel thinks to himself almost in lament, _That is what my mother should have had._

It takes a good deal of willpower to keep my eyes from darting over to the young man. I manage to keep my attention on my Bella's flustered face and the musical sounds of my family's delight, but Nahuel's comment has made me curious about his thought patterns. I will have to monitor him more closely if I wish to discover the source before he and Huilen return to South America.

Movement flickers on the edge of my vision, and I glance sideways to see Alice latch onto Jasper's arm with both hands, pulling him away from the grieving Denali coven. He frowns at her in puzzlement but trips along after her, Rosalie trailing behind.

Snatches of their whispered conversation reach our group as they approach. "What are you doing?" Jasper asks the petite vampire leading him across the field. "I was trying to help them."

"I know you were, Jazz," Alice murmurs back tenderly. "But Tanya was going to send you away in about two minutes. I wanted to save you both the trouble." She brings him to a stop near my left side, filling the gap separating me from Carlisle and creating a loose semi-circle in the process. Rose glides over to Emmett a second later, completing the formation.

_Send me away?_ Jasper blinks in bewilderment. "Why?"

Stroking his arm with her fingertips, Alice answers in a hesitant voice, "She wants to feel the pain, the emptiness of losing her sister, so that –" The half-finished vision swims hazily in her mind's eye. "So that she'll never forget the importance…and the price…of family," Alice concludes, nearly whispering.

While her words sink in, my sister berates herself sadly, thinking, _If we could have gotten here sooner, Caius wouldn't have made the snap decision to destroy Irina just to provoke a reaction from our side. She would still be alive. I should have acted faster, or –_

"No." Alice's grief-stricken topaz eyes meet mine, and I instinctively reach for her hand, gripping it tightly. "There's no way of knowing whether or not your arrival could have prevented Irina's death. Caius was so eager for a fight that I believe he would have had her executed regardless. Some things are just meant to be," I say, trying to comfort her with the familiar words she had often given me when we would argue about the outcome of Bella's future as an immortal.

The ghost of a smile twitches Alice's lips, and she leans against my shoulder gratefully, expressing her thanks through the gesture.

Emmett growls under his breath at the end of our exchange. _I hate when they do that._ Aloud, he complains, "I was just starting to forget how annoying that is." He waves a large hand at me and Alice, referring to the one-sided conversations we are prone to have on an almost daily basis. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, he slings an arm around Rosalie's shoulders.

She wrinkles her nose and leans away from him. "You smell like wet dog," she remarks with disdain.

Jacob barks out a laugh. Alice titters behind a hand, a vision swirling into view inside her mind, and I flatten my lips to disguise my smile, settling back on my heels to enjoy what is about to unfold.

"So do you," Emmett counters, raising his eyebrows at Rose.

She huffs, insulted, "I do not!"

Rosalie has a half second to process the devious leer on her husband's face before her traps her in a powerful bear hug, pressing the full length of her body against his own. She screeches for him to let her go, squirming in his clutches wildly, but Emmett simply lifts her off the ground, his arms clamped like a vise around her torso. "Now you do," he declares over Rose's shrieking, and the rest of us collapse into a fit of giggles, bolstered by the giddiness that stems from the overwhelming emotions of this day.

Eventually, Rosalie's struggles cease, and Emmett deems it safe enough to set her down, but he doesn't release his hold. Once her feet touch the snow-covered ground, Rose jerks back her head and sends him a glare that puts the phrase _'if looks could kill'_ in a whole new light.

"Aw, don't be like that, Rose." Emmett grins his best boyish smile, cajoling her in a low, deep voice, "You know you love me."

"God knows why," she snaps, a growl rumbling in her throat. She smacks his thick chest, demanding to be released, but he yanks her flush against him and a gasp escapes her snarling mouth.

Dropping his face to the hollow of her throat, Emmett nips at her skin – one predator staking a claim on another. "Then maybe I should remind you," he purrs. Rosalie's mood switches in the blink of an eye, and she wraps herself around him, their lips crashing together greedily.

"Please, not again…" Jasper exhales in defeat, raking his fingers through his blonde hair. "I can only take so much in one day." He attempts to restrain the hunger sparking between our siblings with his talent, but it is rather like trying to douse a forest fire with a squirt gun.

While eyeing the nearby pair with ill-concealed revulsion, Jacob offers in a casual tone, "Don't worry, Jasper. There's still a ton of snow left, and now I know exactly who to aim for."

A refrain of uncontrolled laughter echoes throughout the clearing, increasing when Emmett and Rosalie disconnect to glower in unison at Jacob, who smiles brightly at them in return.

My father is still chortling as a quiet feminine voice calls his name. His expression sobers immediately when he turns to see Tanya standing at the fringe of our circle, with Kate, Garrett, Carmen, and Eleazar gathered behind her.

Once he looks deeply into her golden eyes, Carlisle glimpses the broken heart concealed behind Tanya's frail smile, and he immediately reaches for her hands, clasping them gently in his own. "I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am for your loss. I wish that your sister had not paid the price for your family's alliance with us."

"She made her choice," Tanya replies in a bleak tone. Then, like a candle flame sputtering in the wind, her resolve flares with newfound strength, and she flips her hands in Carlisle's to grip his fingers. "But our reason for coming here was not about choice. We are all part of the same family. I do not regret the decision to stand with you against the Volturi, and I never will." The rest of her coven nods in silent support of her words.

"You are not staying, though, are you?" Esme murmurs perceptively.

Tanya glances at my mother and shakes her head, the hollowness beginning to drain the waning light from her eyes. "We need time to grieve for our sister. It is best if we separate ourselves from you for a while." Her gaze drifts slowly from one face to the other, experiencing a faint pang of guilt because all the smiles have vanished. "This is a momentous day for our family," she says with conviction. "The sorrow we feel will only tarnish your joy."

_There's more to it than that,_ Jasper ponders, narrowing his eyes in concentration. _I can sense her sincerity, as well as the overwhelming sadness surrounding Irina's death…but something is still buried beneath the surface. _

My brother's ability hones in like a thin beam of light, piercing the center of Tanya's emotional resonance to locate the source of the secreted feeling – and as soon as he identifies its unique flavor, he swiftly withdraws. _Bitterness,_ he declares grimly. _It's only a pinprick compared to the rest, but it is there._ Through his mind, I see my profile, calmly focused on our cousin, and he asks, _Can you tell where this is coming from?_

I lift my left shoulder fractionally at the same time that Carlisle remarks in quiet assurance, "Joy and sorrow are meant to be shared with those we love. Please, Tanya – stay here for a few more days. There has been enough division between us." He squeezes her hands, hoping to allay any reservations she may have.

A brief flash of panic contracts Tanya's pupils. "No, Carlisle, we must go home." She clutches his fingers tightly for a half second and then slips from his grasp, her expression pleading yet adamant. "I know it is difficult for you to understand, but it's…too much…for Kate and I to deal with right now." _We cannot celebrate as you do,_ she whispers inwardly, visions of my family's laughter and embraces swimming into her mind's eye. _Your family is complete. Mine will never be again._ The memory of the handful of ash she held in her palm becomes a painful lance, stabbing into her chest, and she inhales a sharp breath to choke back a sob.

"Oh, Tanya…" I sigh, realizing too late that I had spoken aloud. Though my voice was no louder than the barest whisper, all eyes flick in my direction, questioning and bemused.

Knowing what I must have heard, Tanya lowers her eyelids, her thoughts burning with shame. _Forgive me, _she sends, distressed. _I could never fault any of you for the loss of Irina. It was cruel of me to even consider turning away from your family because you do not share my pain._ She raises her head to meet my eyes, the anguish in her stare hardening into determination. _That was my sister's mistake. It shall not be mine._

Carlisle, sensing that whatever is transpiring between Tanya and I is not meant to be shared, speaks up in a tentative voice. "Whenever you decide to visit us again, remember, our door is always open."

His hesitation ignites a dull ache in her heart, and Tanya instantly surges forward to give him a fierce hug. As she pulls away, she promises, "We will come back soon. Like you said: there has been enough division between us." She kisses his cheek, and then moves on to Esme, thus beginning the process of bidding farewell to every member of the family.

Kate follows her sister soon after, embracing Carlisle like a father while Garrett shakes his hand, and for the sake of their privacy I studiously ignore the exchanges until Tanya reaches me. Eyeing my seemingly immovable arm coiled around Bella's waist, Tanya smirks and opts for a kiss on the cheek instead of a hug, as she had after the wedding. "You have been doubly blessed, Edward," she murmurs, glancing meaningfully at the two precious creatures beside me. "Never take that for granted."

She then looks over at Bella, and to both of our surprise, she inclines her head in a show of respect. "I always knew you had to be someone truly special to capture this one's heart," Tanya remarks blithely, "though I could never have guessed in a thousand years that you would be the most powerful newborn in existence. We all owe you our lives, Bella," she states, quietly serious.

Uncomfortable as always with acclaim, Bella fidgets a little as she replies, "I was only protecting what's most important to me."

_Ever selfless. She is a rare treasure, indeed._ "Of course." Tanya smoothly diverts her attention to Renesmee, dropping a kiss on the little girl's forehead, and afterward she continues down the line to Emmett and Rosalie.

Kate says her goodbyes a moment later, her mood more subdued than usual, but I notice an inner peace – a subtle glow within her ocher irises – that had not been present before. And the way her attention keeps gravitating back to Garrett is just one piece of evidence demonstrating that her life has been irrevocably altered – as mine was when I fell in love with Bella.

While the slender blonde is conversing with my wife, Garrett grasps my hand firmly, joking in a half-amazed voice, "After two hundred years, I thought that I'd never be taken by surprise again. And then_ she_ happened." His scarlet eyes land with tender appreciation on Kate. _I have to change what I am, how I live, so I can be right for her,_ he tells himself. His conviction and attitude remind me so thoroughly of myself that I am certain their relationship will endure.

"I know exactly what you mean," I comment to him, thinking back on how the arrival of one human girl to this rainy little town had upended my entire reality, shattered me into a million diamond shards, and then remolded me into someone who could deserve her love.

Garrett chuckles, shaking my hand one final time, and then transfers his gaze to Bella. By now, I can recognize the awe that enters everyone's stare when they look at her, their amazement over this newborn vampire with the ability to render the most feared immortals in the world powerless. "It was you, wasn't it?" the nomad questions suddenly. "You stopped Kate from shocking me when I had her pinned on the ground."

Bella nods, confirming the suspicions I'd had during that tense, nightmarish moment.

"Thank you." The words thrum with the depth of his gratitude. "You saved us both." Then he pats Renesmee on the head and follows after Kate.

Carmen and Eleazar give their farewells together. Carmen warmly enfolds all three of us in a hug, and for Renesmee she sings a Spanish lullaby under her breath before bending down to rub noses with my daughter, thanking God in her mind all the while that she was spared from the Volturi's brand of 'justice'.

Eleazar marvels yet again how I had managed to stumble upon one of the greatest finds as far as promising talent by pure accident, and reminds Bella to always practice using her shield. "In_ every_ way," he emphasizes, raising his eyebrows.

He does not elaborate on the significance of these parting words, but from the way Bella eagerly bobs her head, it must be important.

The Denalis and Garrett come together several feet apart from us after the last goodbye is spoken, and with a final wave, they leap into the northern woods, the sound of their passage a faint breeze that is swallowed up by a gust of wintry wind.

Quite suddenly, Alice lets out a tiny gasp. "You don't have to leave, Huilen!" she exclaims, looking at the startled dark-haired vampire. Her vision is a cloudy mix of shapes and colors – and it becomes even murkier as Huilen glances uncertainly from Alice to her nephew, who has continued to stare at Bella for some time now.

Carlisle offers a friendly invitation to our remaining guests, saying with a smile, "Alice is right. Both of you are welcome to stay for as long as you wish. It's the least we can do to repay you for coming to our aid."

Wringing her small hands, Huilen's scarlet eyes dart around the clearing, and she mumbles in reply, "We do not want to intrude –"

"It is no intrusion." My father steps forward, his expression open and his tone heartfelt as he tells her, "You're among friends now, Huilen. We would be honored to invite you and Nahuel back to our home." He holds out a hand and gestures with a sweeping motion to the west, his face alight in expectation.

Huilen is deeply touched by his sincerity and fascinated with the dynamics of my family, but she has lived on the outskirts of civilization for so long – and spent most of her existence sheltering and caring for her nephew – that he has become her first priority in all circumstances. She turns to him and peers intently into his eyes, trying to determine what he wants to do.

Reading the unspoken question in her gaze, Nahuel gives his aunt a slight nod, his features carefully blank, yet the excitement blanketing his every thought reveals just how much he would like to stay.

"Very well." Huilen blinks once, and then shifts her eyes back to Carlisle, smiling a little. "We accept your invitation." She places her hand in his, adding, "And your friendship."

Alice beams happily when the immediate future coalesces in her mind, and Emmett heaves a dramatic sigh, groaning in a loud voice, "So let's_ go_ already! I've seen enough of this field to last me at least another seventy years." _And I think we need to find another place to play baseball,_ he concludes mentally.

Moving a half step away from Alice, Jasper cocks an eyebrow at our brother and dares, "Race you."

He shoots past Emmett, who swears out of sheer reflex and then barrels after him, yelling with enough volume to topple mounds of snow from nearby tree branches, "Hey, that's cheating!"

Rose puts her hands on her hips and shakes her head, staring after them. _Honestly…some things never change. _Her pursed lips slowly curve into a smile.

Alice dances over to her side a moment later and taps her on the shoulder. "Shall we?" she asks, the impish grin on her face a sorely missed sight.

Together, the statuesque blonde and the black-haired pixie jump playfully into the trees, their lighthearted thoughts echoing in the back of my mind like faraway music.

The consummate hostess, Esme graciously offers to escort Huilen and Nahuel to the house, and she and Carlisle lead them at a more leisurely pace in the same direction that my siblings went, following the familiar path through the underbrush.

Once everyone else has left, Jacob rubs the back of his neck, glancing sidelong at me with a sheepish expression on his face. "I guess I should've waited before I phased, huh?" he mutters under his breath. "You guys go ahead – I'll catch up in a minute." His body shifts to head into the privacy of a cluster of firs, but his eyes refuse to leave Renesmee.

There has been too much frantic activity in the last month; I have no desire to rush anything from this moment on. "We'll wait," I inform Jacob calmly.

His relief is profound, and he spins on heel to sprint into the dim shadows while Bella looks up at me, her eyes wide in astonishment. "You don't want to run with the others?"

I give her a crooked grin, shaking my head in denial. "Not today," I answer softly.

The tender yet powerful look she gives me then sends a surge of electricity throughout my body, intensifying to an almost pleasurable sting as her fingertips caress the swell of my lower lip.

_All right, all right, break it up._ Jacob bounds out of the forest like an overeager puppy and bumps into Bella with the side of his head, causing her hand to slip from my mouth. She sticks out her tongue at him while my skin aches for her touch, and Jacob snickers at us both, the sound hissing through his teeth.

The noise, combined with the wolfy grin on his furry face, is so ridiculous that I smile in spite of myself. Winding my fingers through Bella's, I lightly tug on her hand and begin to lead the way back to the house.

The elegant, natural beauty of a forest in winter captures our interest as we travel at a relaxed pace, the red-brown wolf loping alongside us. I know that the others are probably starting to wonder what is keeping us, but Alice will surely have seen that we have taken a more scenic route and assure everyone that we will be there in due time.

Of course, once we arrive on the porch steps, the collective curiosity saturating the minds of those inside has grown to immense proportions.

The front door is thrown wide open and Emmett appears, saying as a greeting, "You took your sweet time getting here." He scowls alternately at Bella and myself, ready to yank us all into the house if we linger outside any longer.

I give him a noncommittal shrug as Jacob trots across the yard – back in human form – and shoulders his way past Emmett, wondering if there is anything to eat in the kitchen.

Alice is waiting for us on the staircase, an apologetic smile shaping her lips as she watches us file across the threshold, Emmett slamming the door shut in our wake. "I tried holding him off for as long as possible," she remarks wryly, "but you had to drag your feet." _Em was just about to go looking for you._ She folds her arms over her chest and frowns in mock-disapproval, though her bright gold eyes are sparkling with delight.

Without loosening my hold on Bella, I dash forward and tuck my favorite sister under my arm, murmuring warmly, "Thanks, Alice."

"Emmett's been driving us all crazy," Jasper speaks up from the front room. I steer our little group around the piano and spot him seated next to Esme on the sofa near the window wall. "The extent of his patience is the equivalent of a five year-old's." He smirks at our brother, who visibly grinds his teeth but does not reply – at least not so anyone except me can hear. Apparently, Jasper won the race, but not before upping the ante to appeal to Emmett's competitive nature. He is a master strategist when it comes to games of chance, and Emmett has a weakness for sucker bets.

Attempting to ignore Jasper's rather smug expression, Emmett heads over to the recliner in front of the television and deftly spins it around to face the center of the room. Then he deposits his considerable bulk on the cushion, waving a meaty hand dismissively as he says, "Never mind that. Let's get on with what I know we've_ all_ been waiting for." He glares around the room as though daring someone to contradict him.

Esme watches him fondly, her whole being exuding profound contentment and joy at her family being together once again, while Jasper stretches his long legs out in front of him as a show of getting comfortable.

From the alcove beside the dining room, Rosalie glides into the massive area and makes a beeline for her husband, perching herself on the closest armrest and leaning against his sturdy frame. And in the farthest corner beside the fireplace, Carlisle and Huilen are engaged in deep conversation, seeming oblivious to anything else happening around them. Only Nahuel, who is sitting beside his aunt, takes notice of our entrance, his teak-colored eyes zeroing in on Bella like she is a magnet.

"Well?" Emmett's annoyed voice draws my attention away from the young man. "Lay it on us."

Although I know perfectly well what he is referring to, I cannot help but to tease him a little. Raising my eyebrows in innocent confusion, I ask, "Pardon?"

_You…_ While he proceeds to rant by using a bizarre mixture of insults in his head, he tosses his hands up in the air and exclaims, "The inside story! Come _on,_ Edward, you're_ killing_ me! Tell us what you heard in those bastard's heads." His lips stretch over his gleaming white teeth in a ferocious grin. "You know you want to," he goads.

I sigh loudly in mock-resignation, though I cannot quite hide the faint smile on my face, and shepherd Bella, Renesmee, and Alice towards the sofa. My sister wedges herself between Jasper and I, my arm still draped over her shoulders – and Bella curves willingly into the side of my body, our daughter cradled in her lap, her tiny hands fisted around her mother's shirt like she has no intention of ever letting go.

Emmett all but rubs his hands together in anticipation, his eyes glowing with keen interest. "So?" he prompts me impatiently.

I take another second or two to compile everything that I had heard during the confrontation, and then begin to relay the buried motivations behind the Volturi's plans. "As I said when they arrived, Aro and Caius had a many-layered strategy in place to dismember our coven and acquire those of us they wanted for their guard." My gaze flits sideways to Alice, who nods once in solemn agreement. "But what they_ weren't_ prepared for," I go on in a more animated tone, "was an organized defense on our side – not to mention the number and variety of allies we had managed to amass to support us."

Glancing from my sister to Bella, I silently amend my statement, acknowledging that neither my family nor the Volturi had been expecting that the day's outcome would hinge on the ability of one newborn vampire. Bella holds my eyes with her own, their mysterious amber depths intoxicating me as I explain quietly, "So I was a combination of things there at the end, but what it really boiled down to was…Bella." Even I can detect the awe in my voice, and she lowers her eyelids, the lashes creating delicate ebony shadows on her pale skin. Unable to curb the impulse, I lean over and kiss her forehead, wordlessly apologizing for putting more unwanted attention upon her.

Afterward, I straighten up and gently squeeze the spirited little imp on my opposite side. "Alice gave Aro the excuse he needed to get out of the fight," I tell everyone with a lopsided grin.

_Hold your applause,_ she jokes playfully. It is insane how much I have missed her these last few weeks.

"If he hadn't been so terrified of Bella," I remark, coming back to the discussion, "he probably would have gone ahead with their original plan."

Bella angles her body slightly to look at me, the dubious expression on her face one I have seen many times – always when I try to convey to her how amazingly, exceedingly special she is. "Terrified?" she says, disbelieving. "Of _me?"_

I study her for a moment, tracing the lovely, familiar lines of her features with eyes that can now see even further beyond what I have already discovered about this remarkable woman. She is half of all that I am – the embodiment of everything good and pure and worthwhile in my whole existence – and she has no idea that the world was changed today, in part by_ her_ hand, just as she changed me with one word from her warm, supple lips.

I let out a soft breath, my adoration of her mingling with wonder and a hint of frustration, and I murmur tenderly, "When will you ever see yourself clearly?"

Raising my voice to include the others, I succeed in extracting myself from the pull of Bella's wide eyes and glance around, resuming my tale. "The Volturi haven't fought a fair fight in about twenty-five hundred years. And they're never, never fought one where they were at a disadvantage. Especially since they gained Jane and Alec, they've only been involved with unopposed slaughterings." Which is what they had intended for us, until Aro realized that he and his brothers had seriously underestimated our family.

Jacob wanders into the room while I pause to draw breath, his belly full and his smug satisfaction with our victory seeming to fill every corner of the house. My own sense of triumph inflates as Jasper allows the emotion to affect each one present, and I exclaim with gleeful pride, "You should have seen how we looked to them! Usually, Alec cuts off all sense and feeling from their victims while they go through the charade of a counsel. That way, no one can run when the verdict is given." I remember my original goal, when the universe was crumbling all around us, to ensure that I would have Bella in my arms when Alec's gift began its terrible work, so that we would perish together.

My smile widens, seeming to take over my entire countenance, as I recall how intimidated the Volturi – the most powerful coven ever – were by a group of unconventional vampires and their friends. "But there we stood, ready, waiting, outnumbering them, with gifts of our own while their gifts were rendered useless by Bella. Aro knew that with Zafrina on our side, they would be the blind ones when the battle commenced."

My pleased expression dims somewhat as I consider aloud, "I'm sure our numbers would have been pretty severely decimated, but_ they_ were sure that theirs would be, too. There was even a good possibility that they would lose." A rarity in and of itself, which energizes my intense happiness and lightens my tone. "They've never dealt with that possibility before. They didn't deal with it well today." A chuckle punctuates the end of that sentence, triggering a low chorus of laughter from my audience.

Emmett laughs loudest of all, and when he notices Jacob standing close beside his chair, he pokes him in the arm with a forefinger, commenting through his guffaws, "Hard to feel confident when you're surrounded by horse-sized wolves."

Jacob grins hugely at him. _You got that right._

"It was the wolves that stopped them in the first place," Bella points out, adjusting a nearly asleep Renesmee in her cool grasp. Sighing, the little girl curls into her mother's chest, resting her cheek against Bella's collarbone, a sleepy smile bowing her lips.

"Sure was," Jacob declares, his eyes locked on Renesmee while he heads in our direction. The rest of us watch in amusement as he sprawls on the hardwood floor by Bella's feet, his back propped against the sofa.

Barely resisting the urge to shake my head, I say in agreement, "Absolutely. That was another sight they've never seen. The true Children of the Moon rarely move in packs, and they are never much in control of themselves." I had garnered quite a bit of information about these mythical creatures while Caius and Aro compared the Quileutes to the beasts they had hunted down centuries ago. "Sixteen enormous regimented wolves was a surprise they weren't prepared for. Caius is actually terrified of werewolves," I inform everyone, grinning crookedly. "He almost lost a fight with one a few thousand years ago and never got over it."

_Ain't that a shame, _Emmett thinks, snorting humorously.

Meanwhile, Bella turns sideways in her seat to stare at me with wide-eyed inquisitiveness. "So there are_ real_ werewolves?" she asks, astonished. "With the full moon and silver bullets and all that?"

Her earnest curiosity reminds me of the early days in our relationship, when almost every answer I gave her was immediately countered by another question. I pretended to be exasperated with her witty interrogations, but secretly I was overjoyed that she seemed to want to know as much about me as I did about her – which was everything.

A puff of breath escapes from Jacob's mouth, and he cranes his neck to peer at Bella, a sarcastic smirk in place as he teases, _"Real._ Does that make me imaginary?"

Not breaking eye contact with me, she pushes his shoulder with her left knee. He rocks sideways a little from the pressure and I hold back a proud smile, pleased that she has learned to control her newborn strength in such a short amount of time. "You know what I mean," she grumbles to Jacob.

He chuckles quietly as he settles back into his previous position.

"Full moon, yes," I answer, smiling into Bella's fascinated eyes. "Silver bullets, no – that was just another one of those myths to make humans feel like they had a sporting chance. There aren't very many of them left. Caius has had them hunted into near extinction." The edict calling for the Children of the Moon's destruction is the source of the innate animosity between vampires and wolves. A thousand years of hatred because of one immortal's abhorrence toward a creature that is as much a victim as those it kills.

Bella cocks an eyebrow and purses her full lips. The sight is unbelievably enticing; I have to force myself to not react the way my body is screaming for me to do and remain politely attentive while she says, "And you never mentioned this because…?"

"It never came up." I shrug, feigning nonchalance.

She rolls her eyes, her irritation with me as endearing as always, and Alice giggles_. I can see why you love to tease her, _she sends good-naturedly. _Her reactions really are too much fun._ As though to prove her point, my sister leans forward in order to see around me and winks at Bella, her smile growing when she receives a heated glare from her best friend in return.

A snapshot of Bella's outraged face flits across Alice's mind, accompanied by a jumbled mix of shouts and unfinished sentences, and she sighs softly. _I figured this was coming…_ The thought is bathed in mild remorse and a hint of indignation. Alice props her elbows on her thighs and rests her chin in her hands, staring at Bella with raised eyebrows, waiting. "Just get it off your chest, Bella," she offers after a few seconds of silence.

"How could you do that to me, Alice?" she demands at once. The others are a bit confused by her question; they understood the gist of what had been summarized for Aro, and the suspicions I had shared with my parents over the last three weeks, but none of them fully realize yet just how much Bella had kept to herself with the intention that I would not divulge the key to our survival to Aro. Both Alice and I can see the flicker of hurt in her yellow-orange gaze, and it grieves the two of us that she suffered from this knowledge for so long alone.

Sympathy softens Alice's expression, but her voice is firm as she replies, "It was necessary."

"Necessary!" The word explodes from Bella, the shrill noise ricocheting off the high ceiling. Emmett pretends to soothe his eardrums by rubbing the side of his head with his fingers, unsuccessfully hiding his amused smirk. Carlisle and Huilen look up from their involved conversation in bewilderment at the outburst – thankfully, the slumbering toddler in Bella's arms remains undisturbed by her mother's show of temper. "You had me totally convinced we were all going to die!" Bella continues to rail at Alice. "I've been a wreck for weeks."

_I know. Believe me, I know._ Although Alice had been on the other side of the world, she was still attuned to the future's shifting around our family's lives. She had seen Bella's anguish and the measures she had taken to preserve the utmost secrecy of the instructions Alice had left. So it is with a sense of apology that my sister absorbs Bella's fury with complete calm. "It might have gone that way," she reminds her gently. "In which case you needed to be prepared to save Nessie." Her stare drifts downward to Renesmee's sleep-flushed face, and the slender arms curled around the little girl's tiny body tighten their hold, as Bella no doubt remembers how we could have easily lost her forever.

However, my stubborn Bella will not renounce her argument just yet. "But you knew there were other ways, too," she accuses, narrowing her eyes at Alice. "You knew there was hope. Did it ever occur to you that you could have told me everything?" Disgruntled, she flips her hair over a shoulder, the ends snapping against my shirt in the process. I studiously avoid eye contact with anyone else in the room, because I would surely burst into laughter over my sheer adoration of this unpredictable woman. "I know Edward had to think we were at a dead end for Aro's sake," Bella goes on, "but you could have told _me."_ She gestures to herself with one hand for emphasis.

Humming thoughtfully, Alice examines her for a moment_. Maybe that would have been better for her, _she speculates, _but not for the rest of us. Bella decidedly lacks in the lying department._ Aloud, she remarks with certainty, "I don't think so. You're just not that good an actress." Alice's lips twist as she winces, regretful.

Bella's mouth pops open in shock – which swiftly changes to outrage.

Jasper attempts to tamper with the spikes of her ire, but he is having a difficult time readjusting to the volatile aspects of her temperament. _Only you would find a mate whose mood swings rival your own,_ he complains mentally. I lift one shoulder in a faint shrug. He glowers back, feeling my utter enjoyment of the whole situation.

Like a teapot set to boil, Bella shrieks incredulously, her tone rising in pitch with each word, "This was about my _acting skills?" _She stomps her foot on the floor beside Jacob, who locks his arms across his chest to keep from shaking with the uncontrollable hilarity filling his thoughts.

Alice shares my entertained feelings in regard to Bella's tantrum, but she is irked at her best friend and sister for not being able to grasp how difficult the separation from our family was for her and Jasper.

Determined to make her see events from the opposite perspective, the petite inky-haired firecracker at my side seems to come uncorked, erupting into a high-speed monologue. "Oh, take it down an octave, Bella. Do you have any idea how_ complicated_ this was to set up? I couldn't even be sure that someone like Nahuel existed – all I knew was that I would be looking for something I couldn't see! Try to imagine searching for a blind spot – not the easiest thing I've ever done. Plus we had to send back the key witnesses, like we weren't in enough of a hurry," she inserts petulantly. "And then keeping my eyes open all the time in case you decided to throw me any more instructions. At some point you're going to have to tell me what exactly is in Rio." She eyes Bella as she inhales a short breath, her expression fraught with implication, and my own curiosity piques, my mind chasing after a dozen likely scenarios.

"Before any of _that,"_ Alice restarts a beat later, "I had to try to see every trick the Volturi might come in with and give you what few clues I could so you would be ready for their strategy, and I only had just a few hours to trace out all the possibilities."

A flash of memory floods her thoughts at that moment – a chaotic whirlwind of sights and sounds surrounding her like she was standing in the midst of a hurricane, picking out which future outcomes would affect our situation while also monitoring her own path and how her choices would alter the end result. She had very nearly lost herself in the ever-changing labyrinth of time; Jasper had been forced to shock her out of her trancelike state by using an onslaught of intense emotion, which to him is as violent and inexcusable as if he had struck her.

Shaking herself from the recollection, Alice then addresses the hardest thing she had ever done in her century of existence. "Most of all, I had to make sure you'd all believe that I was ditching out on you, because Aro had to be positive that you had nothing left up your sleeves or he never would have committed to an out the way he did." Her chest swells with a deep breath, and she jabs her index finger in Bella's direction, scolding, "And if you think I didn't feel like a schmuck –"

"Okay, okay! Sorry!" Bella holds up a hand and waves frantically, surrendering just as Alice knew she would. "I know it was rough for you, too. It's just that…" Her features melt into an expression that readily conveys both guilt and deep affection. "Well, I missed you like crazy, Alice. Don't do that to me again," she warns halfheartedly, her lips molding into an intriguing blend of smirk and pout.

A musical, trilling laugh rings out from Alice. The sound, so familiar and loved – and one none of us have heard in what seems like an eternity – causes smiles to appear on everyone's faces. "I missed you, too, Bella," she says warmly, golden eyes alight. "So forgive me, and try to be satisfied with being the superhero of the day." She grins, and a tiny giggle bubbles out of her.

The whole room fills up with laughter following Alice's comment, and Bella predictably dips her head in embarrassment, hiding her face within Renesmee's bronze curls.

"Alice is right," I declare after the chuckles start to die down. My eyes focus lovingly on the crown of Bella's dark hair as the others look towards me with mild interest. "It was Bella's shield that ultimately made the Volturi run away with their tails between their legs." My fingertips tease the soft curve of her hip, and she hesitantly raises her chin. Her eyes dart quickly to mine, then around the room in less than a second before fixating on our sleeping daughter.

I let out a low sigh. Self-conscious to a fault, my Bella cannot or will not understand that the credit for today's victory rests almost exclusively on her incredible gift. Her entire mindset of her own significance is ridiculously skewed; I wish I could see firsthand how she views herself – then I might be able to change that perception with better success.

It seems even I am capable of foolish notions.

Coming back to the discussion, I finish summarizing what I had witnessed in Aro's and his coven's minds, and the barrage of questions ensue. I answer as best I can, all the while watching each slight movement made by the center of my existence.

Her gaze shifts occasionally from Renesmee to Jacob, seeming to take some comfort in his easygoing expression. If I had to hazard a guess, I would say that she is constantly looking to him because his opinion of her is unchanged by these events. Unusually talented newborn or no, Bella will always be just Bella to him. Which is ironic, to say the least.

In addition to conversing with my family, the small part of my awareness that is not consumed by Bella monitors the behavior of the only other half-vampire in the room.

Nahuel has not taken his eyes off my wife since she entered the house – and his thoughts, though initially confusing, have leveled out to an internal debate based on what he has believed of his own existence for the last one hundred and fifty years.

While I glean some essential pieces of insight to account for his fixation on Bella, another set of eyes have noticed Nahuel's stare and understandably misinterpreted his focal point.

_Why's that punk keep staring at my niece? _Emmett growls to himself, fierce protectiveness saturating his mind. _He better not be thinking what I think he is, 'cause it's not gonna happen. She's just a baby! _Then, true to form, his thoughts turn toward the possibility of a future brawl between Jacob and the hybrid. _That'd be a good fight,_ he remarks with wicked glee. _I'd bet on the dog; Jake's unstoppable when it comes to Nessie. Though things might get hairy if she's anything like her mother and tries to play both sides…_

I barely resist the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. Any speculation on my _four-month-old_ daughter's potential suitors is not a thought I want to entertain at the moment. Or at all, if I can help it.

Long after the snowy forest outside has turned blue-black with the night, the question and answer session has broken up into several overlapping conversations.

Alice has wormed her way out from under my arm and tucked herself into Jasper's side, chattering animatedly with Esme about having a belated Christmas celebration.

Smiling slightly, Jasper kisses the top of his wife's head and purposefully dulls the overzealous enthusiasm radiating from her. Alice pinches his thigh just before his ability fully takes effect, and then proceeds to punish him by summoning wave after wave of less than appropriate emotion.

The sofa frame and floorboards vibrate with Jasper's inaudible growl, and I immediately block his thoughts, remembering from past experience that he has a particularly…_vivid _imagination when it comes to Alice.

Foreheads pressed together, Rose and Emmett murmur to each other in low undertones. Carlisle and Huilen have progressed through a number of fascinating subjects throughout the evening, and are now in the midst of discussing Huilen's people while her nephew continues his silent scrutiny. Meantime, Jacob is half asleep as he lounges on the floor by our feet, the soft, quick voices lulling him into a daze.

I glance back at the windows, the inky shadows of nighttime beckoning, and picture the little cottage nestled within a frosted glade. And I realize in that instant that I want more than anything to be_ home_ – to place Renesmee safely in her crib and feel Bella in my arms as we seclude ourselves in our bedroom. I want to finally have some peace.

Turning sideways, I meet my favorite pair of amber eyes and sense on some inexplicable level that she shares my desire to return to our small corner of heaven. She confirms my hunch a moment later as she begins to inquire in a tone little louder than a whisper, "Should we take Nessie…"

"That's probably a good idea," I respond at once, not bothering to keep my voice as low as hers in my haste to agree. "I'm sure she didn't sleep soundly last night, what with all the snoring." I grin broadly at the back of Jacob's head.

He twists around to peer up at us and rolls his eyes, a yawn escaping through his lopsided smile. "It's been a while since I slept in a bed," he says, rubbing the back of his neck to get rid of the crick in his muscles. "I bet my dad would get a kick out of having me under his roof again." He snorts under his breath_. Unless he's already made my room into a storage closet, since I can't remember the last time I was actually there for more than fifteen minutes._

Bella reaches out and tenderly places her slender hand on his cheek. "Thank you, Jacob," she murmurs with heartfelt intensity.

He leans into her touch, black eyes echoing the emotion in her tone. "Anytime, Bella." The russet skin under her white fingertips crinkles as his smile widens. "But you already know that."

Clambering to his feet, Jacob lets out a groaning yawn, stretching his arms high above his head, and bends down to press his lips to Renesmee's forehead. Afterward, he kisses the top of Bella's head, as well. Then he throws a playful punch into my right shoulder, offering as a farewell, "See you guys tomorrow. I guess things are going to be kind of boring now, aren't they?"

"I fervently hope so," I reply in all seriousness. Considering all we have been through in the last month – let alone the crises Bella and I have endured over the course of our relationship – I eagerly welcome a little boredom.

Jacob waves at everyone from the doorway and disappears into the night amidst a chorus of goodbyes.

I rise from the sofa and hold out my hand to Bella, needing any sort of physical contact with her body rather than acting purely out of chivalry, and she slips her palm into mine without pause, straightening up gracefully. Renesmee breathes deep and even in her arms, finding respite in the solace of a dreamless sleep.

Quite suddenly, Bella spins halfway around and asks, "Oh, Jasper?"

He looks up with arched eyebrows, picking up on the flicker of curiosity and – concern? – in her emotions. "Yes, Bella?"

"I'm curious – why is J. Jenks scared stiff by just the sound of your name?"

So_ that's_ where she obtained the necessary paperwork to get Jacob and Renesmee out of the country if they had to run. She must have been meeting with Jenks when she went out the other day dressed uncharacteristically chic. I thought perhaps that had been the case when I saw fragments of the clues Alice had left for her in my sister's mind, but Bella must have done a great deal of detective work to locate Jenks and to figure out exactly what she needed from him. _My clever Bella,_ I muse fondly, smiling at her as she waits for Jasper's answer.

Chuckling low in his throat, my brother tells her, "It's just been my experience that some kinds of working relationships are better motivated by fear than by monetary gain."

Bella frowns sternly, and a deep-seated resolve flares like a struck match within her eyes. Instead of dwelling futilely on what decision she could possibly have made in light of Jasper's words, I tug gently on her hand and start towards the rear of the house.

_Say good night to your mother first._ Esme leaps up from the sofa and enfolds all three of us in her arms, kissing my cheek, then Bella's, and Renesmee's brow.

The others add their own well wishes – Emmett of course cannot resist an opportunity to taunt me about how we intend to spend the rest of our evening – and soon the golden glow of the house gives way to the cool blue shadows of the forest.

The frozen river glistens with icy glitter from the recent snowfall, snaking like a ribbon of silver through the black silhouettes of the trees, and together Bella and I cross effortlessly, our pace unhurried. It is a simple pleasure to just move along however we wish without worrying about deadlines or impending arrivals. We can just _be…_for the first time in months.

Buoyed by a carefree spirit, I adjust my hold on Bella's hand and lift our entwined fingers to my lips, brushing a kiss on each of her knuckles. She smiles at me, her amber irises beginning to smolder beneath her thick fringe of lashes, and a flash burn of hunger travels through my whole body, settling into a gnawing ache in the pit of my stomach.

Half of me desperately yearns to take Bella in my arms and not let go until the craving has been sated – and the other half remembers that I am not only a husband, but a father as well, and our daughter deserves a peaceful night's rest in her warm bed. And it is that responsible reminder I heed as I lower our clasped hands and seek out a distraction, voicing the first thing that comes to mind. "I have to say, I'm thoroughly impressed with Jacob right now."

Bella stares out at the wintry landscape, murmuring thoughtfully, "The wolves make quite an impact, don't they?"

While I could drive myself mad speculating on how her mind drew that conclusion from my statement, I simply explain, "That's not what I mean. Not once today did he think about the fact that, according to Nahuel, Nessie will be fully matured in just six and a half years." In truth, I have not given it much thought, either…because I am fairly certain that I will be tempted to hide the three of us away in some forgotten part of the world for the next decade or so.

The tranquil stillness of the night envelops us for a moment as Bella considers what I said. Finally, she replies with quiet assurance, "He doesn't see her that way. He's not in a hurry for her to grow up. He just wants her to be happy." She peers up at me, looking for confirmation, and I am once again amazed by her uncanny insight.

"I know," I agree softly, smiling with pride at both her perceptiveness and Jacob's steadfast devotion to Renesmee. "Like I said, impressive." Knowing that he would do anything – _be _anything – to her and for her, causes me to rethink all of my firmly held convictions in regard to the wolves, and especially Jacob. "It goes against the grain to say so," I confess in a rueful tone, "but she could do worse."

An adorable scowl wrinkles the corners of Bella's mouth, and her nose scrunches up as though smelling an unpleasant aroma. "I'm not going to think about that for approximately six and a half more years," she vows with staunch obstinacy.

I laugh at her stubborn expression, indulging for a fraction of a second in the naïve fantasy that we can ignore our daughter's fast-approaching adolescence…and then a cold blast of logic shatters the dream as I recall the unblinking yellow-brown eyes that had watched us all evening.

My grins fades, and a deep sigh escapes my lungs. Though it pains me to even contemplate it, Emmett's thoughts of a future rivalry for Renesmee's affections may be fated to happen. "Of course, it looks like he'll have some competition to worry about when the time comes," I mutter darkly.

The fine lines etching Bella's features deepen as the meaning of my words takes root in her mind. "I noticed." She blows a quick breath through her full lips, making them vibrate quietly, and tucks a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm grateful to Nahuel for today, but all the staring was a little weird." Her gaze lowers to the sleeping child burrowed in her arms, and she adds in a steely undertone, "I don't care if she is the only half-vampire he's not related to."

"Oh, he wasn't staring at her," I remark mildly, leaning over to brush my lips across the crease between her eyebrows. Nothing should spoil the perfect happiness of this night – not even the worries that we share as parents. "He was staring at you."

Her eyes connect with mine, and she asks in bewilderment, "Why would he do that?"

"Because you're alive," I murmur in a quiet, subdued voice. She has no idea that her very presence amongst our family has created a momentous paradigm shift in Nahuel's life. Having learned through his internal monologue what he has believed of his own existence, I can understand – and even sympathize – with the young man's avid interest in my wife…and myself.

Bella shakes her head a little, still puzzled. "You lost me."

Hoping to summarize all that I had discovered with his mind, I start to explain, "All his life – and he's fifty years older than I am –"

"Decrepit," she inserts playfully, bumping into my side with her shoulder as we continue to meander through the silent woods.

I smile inwardly, reliving in a fraction of a second every agonizing yet engaging conversation I had with her when I would attempt to explain something and she would constantly interrupt with some observation or question. I used to think I would go mad…until I realized that not hearing her voice at all was far worse torment than patiently navigating through her endless interjections.

However, in retaliation for her teasing, I pretend as though she has not spoken. "He's always thought of himself as an evil creation, a murderer by nature."

Nahuel recalled with astounding clarity how Huilen had lovingly wrapped her sister's destroyed corpse – ravaged by animals and the elements while she burned with the venom for three days – in palm leaves and laid her to rest in a grave made inside the tangled roots of a vine-draped tree, tearless sobs quaking her small frame.

"His sisters all killed their mothers as well," I say, fighting vainly against the onslaught of gore-splattered memories surrounding Renesmee's birth, "but they thought nothing of it. Joham raised them to think of the humans as animals, while they were gods." My teeth grind together at the callous, self-serving indecency of this vampire who preys upon innocent women for the sole purpose of instigating a new species…

Bella squeezes my tense hand gently, staring at my profile in concern, and I breathe in a deep breath of icy, floral-scented air, dulling the sharpened edge of my temper. "But Nahuel was taught by Huilen," I pick up where I left off in a lighter tone, "and Huilen loved her sister more than anyone else. It shaped his whole perspective. And, in some ways, he truly hated himself."

Renesmee's guilt-ridden expression from the day Tanya's family arrived floats through my mind's eye, her sweet voice echoing her sorrow. _"This is my fault."_

She would have blamed herself if anything had happened to Bella after she had brought her into this world, which makes me wonder. Since Renesmee was conceived in love rather than coldhearted deception, could that have also shaped her feelings toward the human half of her creation? Or perhaps my daughter is simply blessed with a profound capacity to love…just like her mother.

That same compassionate spirit radiates from Bella's jewel-tone irises as she murmurs softly, almost to herself, "That's so sad."

My thumb caresses the top of her hand, back and forth – an automatic response to soothe – and I give her a reassuring smile. "And then he saw the three of us – and realized for the first time that just because he is half immortal, it doesn't mean he is inherently evil." I glance up at the velvety black sky, focusing on a swath of pale moonlight breaking through the clouds and the sprinkling of stars visible beyond, and inform Bella, feeling somewhat humbled, "He looks at me and sees…what his father should have been."

"You_ are_ fairly ideal in every way," she remarks affectionately, her guileless expression lighting up the winter's night, and my chest floods with warmth, even though I cannot hold back a quiet snort. She sees me about as clearly as she views herself, but her unique perspective is just one of the thousands of reasons why I adore her.

Sobering, I shift my gaze from the heavens to my own personal embodiment of paradise, recalling the core motive for Nahuel's attention. "He looks at you and sees the life his mother should have had," I say in a low voice.

"Poor Nahuel," she breathes with genuine empathy, and then a sigh escapes her mouth, mingling with the faint breeze stirring the frozen air.

"Don't be sad for him," I urge, while at the same time promising myself that I will spend the rest of eternity ensuring that she will never experience the emotion again. "He's happy now. Today, he's finally begun to forgive himself."

Like the sunrise, a smile slowly blossoms on her face, its glow banishing any traces of sadness, and I feel my lips curve into an echo of her joy.

We make the rest of the journey home in comfortable silence, my curiosity awakening when Bella's contented grin widens in a burst of unexpected delight, but I successfully repress the impulse to ask the everlasting question.

As I had once done to acclimate my instincts to the allure of her temptingly luscious scent, so I would practice every day until the end of forever to ignore the burning need to know her thoughts. After all, I used to believe that it was impossible for me to even be in the same_ state,_ let alone the same room as my singer…and now look at us.

Surely, given enough time, I will be able to control my longing to hear Bella's mind. Her mysterious, baffling, and utterly captivating mind…

_I must be kidding myself._

The forest opens before us to the snow-covered glade encircling the cottage, its eaves bedecked with glittering strings of icicles, and we stroll up the hidden path to the door, smiling at each other with sheer happiness. Together we cross the threshold, and leave all the angst and dark shadows from this day behind, refusing to let them enter our home, our sanctuary.

When we reach Renesmee's room, Bella's hand reluctantly unwinds from mine to adjust her hold around our sleeping daughter, and I dash over to the crib to arrange the blankets. With a soft hum, Renesmee curls peacefully into her bed, a tiny smile bowing her rosy lips. I gently smooth a quilt over her small body while Bella strokes her bronze-colored hair, moving it away from her flushed cheek, and then she kisses the little girl goodnight. My kiss overlaps hers a moment later.

Turning around, I watch with growing amusement as Bella unclasps the hideously extravagant diamond necklace from her throat and tosses it into the far corner of the room. The priceless gem lands with a soft thump atop a pile of stuffed animals and other toys for Renesmee to play with however she wishes.

Then Bella offers me her hand, and we slip out of the room, silently closing the door in our wake.

Carefree as children, swinging our joined hands between us, we wander towards our bedroom, the electric current connecting her body to mine intensifying with each step. I lose myself in her warm amber eyes while I nudge the door with my heel, the latch clicking into place, and then I pull her flush against me, relishing the sensation of having her fully in my arms.

The craving to touch her bare skin, to hear her breathless cries of my name, surges like molten fire through my veins, yet I smother the compulsion to act rashly. This is a night to rejoice, to savor every precious second. "A night for celebrations," I murmur, tasting her sweet fragrance on my tongue when she exhales, her palms resting passively on my chest.

My right hand travels along the contours of her frame and curves around her chin, gently lifting her mouth as I bend down –

Her fluttering eyelids snap open, and she leans away, muttering, "Wait."

Out of utter surprise and confusion, my hands drop to my sides. I can see the reflection of my dumbfounded look in her obsidian pupils. She immediately takes pity on me and smiles a little, the expression tinted with mischief and – oddly enough – a deep-seated resolve. "I want to try something," she tells me.

My brow furrows with an even greater sense of perplexity. _Try something?_ What could she possibly want to try? And why now?

Aggravation intermixes with my baffled thoughts, and the muscles in my neck and shoulders tense as my jaws locks, stifling a growl. I have not felt this level of frustration in regard to Bella's unknowable mind in some time, and it roars inside my skull like an agitated beast, feeding on the voracious hunger for her love that has been delayed by her strange request.

Why can't I just hear what she is _thinking?_

I open my mouth to voice the question, but then Bella lets out a quiet breath and raises her small, perfect hands to my face. She combs her fingertips through the wisps of hair behind my ears and I instantly start to relax, basking in her touch though my confusion remains. Flattening her palms on either side of my head, she closes her eyes and presses her lips together into a stiff line – a study of intense concentration.

The seconds wear on, painstakingly slow, and my stare roves across her delicate features, noting each minute change. A deep crease forms a familiar V shape in the middle of her forehead, her eyelids screwed shut so tightly that she looks as though she is struggling mightily, and the pressure of her hands on my skin increases little by little with each passing moment.

How I wish I knew what she is trying to accomplish; I would do anything to help her – she must know that –

On the fringe of my awareness, a tickle of thought brushes against my mind, stopping all speculation in its tracks. The sensation is lighter than the faintest breeze…but it leaves a remnant of warmth and tenderness and undeniable familiarity that every fiber of my being is left yearning for more.

Quieting my own thoughts, I listen for another thread of insight, wondering who or what it could be while staving off the sudden, explosive hope trembling in the center of my chest – when the warmth returns, pressing upon my consciousness like a handprint.

Words weave themselves through the unbelievably passionate feeling, spoken in a voice that is purer, lovelier, and more enchanting than anything I have ever heard before or since.

_Push… Come on, Bella, you can do this… just a little further…_

A shudder races through me as the timidly awakening hope erupts within my very soul, filling my world with blinding white light and stealing the breath from my lungs after a startled whisper parts my lips. "Bella!"

I can hear her.

I can_ hear_ Bella.

There are no words to describe the emotions that my marble skin is barely containing. My heart surges inside my rib cage as though it has been recalled to life, drumming out a pulse that speaks of joy and redemption, love and commitment, heaven and eternity.

Afraid of losing my equilibrium, my quivering hands stretch out to clutch Bella's waist, my wide eyes drinking in her expression as the realization that she has achieved her goal sets in.

_It's working._

The thought – _her _thought – reaches me again, and another shiver of pleasure sends a wave of heat down my spine. Then my vision blurs, transforming into a hazy mixture of color and motion, and I eagerly submerge myself in the warm depths of her mind, praying that I can experience this forever even as she summons a cascade of memories.

_The cafeteria was crowded. I knew it was the Forks High School cafeteria, although the edges of the memory were pale, unfinished smudges, like a faded photograph. _

_I could hear Jessica Stanley's nasal voice babbling in the background to the right as I saw through Bella's eyes for the first time. Her attention drifted around the room, dropping to the laminate tabletop quite often whenever she felt embarrassed – and then she spotted my siblings and I in the far corner._

_She examined each one of us with incredible perceptiveness and unabashed fascination, before focusing solely on my face, turned in profile in front of the rain-soaked window. She could not seem to look away as she tried to decide between Rosalie and I who was more beautiful. _

_She thought I was beautiful, even before she knew my name._

"_Who are _they?"_ she asked quietly. I looked over at her table before Jessica answered – I remembered that I had heard her think my family's name and had automatically glanced their way – and then my eyes touched Bella's. _

_She felt the same curiosity – the same jolt of energy – that I had in that fraction of a second. _

_Then she lowered her gaze again, and I both mourned and celebrated as the fuzzy-edged memory disappeared…_

_ The golden light of the sun heralded another recollection. I could feel the heat of the rays just as Bella had, and heard her heartbeat thundering in her ears. I savored the rhythm for a brief moment…until I saw my own face swimming into focus in front of her. My expression was pained yet hopeful, wary yet determined. _

_A cold caress chilled the sun's warmth on Bella's cheeks, and she watched my lips as I whispered huskily, "Be very still."_

_ I found myself holding my breath along with Bella as my remembered self leaned forward and rested my head on her breast, listening to her heart while immersing in the temptation of her delectable scent. _

_I knew how the monster had clawed at his prison in my head the entire time, even as the once-foreign desires I carried for her body churned in the pit of my stomach, clouding my thoughts as I felt her shiver underneath my palms. _

_I had wondered at the time, and many times since then, if she had truly been afraid. Now I knew._

_ She never felt fear. The impulse to pull away from my grasp and run, distance herself from my icy skin and unnatural appearance, never once crossed her mind. She was…happy, overjoyed even, that she was the one in my arms. _

_While the wind danced among the wildflowers and the sun continued its path across the sapphire-colored sky, she wanted nothing more than for me to hold her, though her life could end in the blink of an eye._

_ The meadow swirled away in a wash of yellow and green…to be replaced by utter blackness._

_For a second I panicked, worried that something might have happened with her shield, but then I heard the sounds. A wild, furious snarl – breaking glass – a gasp of pain as agony lanced across her body – and a voice. I should have recognized it at once, but when I first heard it, it was too choked by anguish, too heightened by hysteria and too desperately pleading to identify. "Oh no, Bella, no!"_

_More sounds…but Bella blocked them out, concentrating on the frantic voice that she had labeled an angel, but I now knew to be the despairing cries of a heartsick vampire fearing he'd lost the only thing that made his monstrous existence worth keeping. "Bella, please! Bella, listen to me, please, please, Bella, please!"_

_I almost considered begging her to stop, to move on from this particular memory, but whatever she wanted me to understand was too important to both of us to cast aside. So I endured, though my silent heart writhed in torment as she fought to respond to my pleas and I continued to weep, calling for my father. "Carlisle! Bella, Bella, no, oh please, no, no!"_

_As she let the memory draw near to its inevitable conclusion, I began to realize what she wanted me to know. She had no doubts that I would save her. While I remembered warring with my every instinct as I sucked the poison from her veins, she floated on a tranquil sea of acceptance, though she had worried before succumbing to unconsciousness that I would vanish into the darkness. _

_That was when she murmured my name, asking me to stay…and that is what ultimately gave me the strength to deny the bloodthirsty fiend that I refused to become. _

"_Thank you, Edward," she said in the barest whisper._

_I heard myself, weary and triumphant, reply fervently, "I love you."_

"_I know." Her sigh was heartwarming, her trust in me cemented into the foundations of her soul._

_The darkening vision sank back into her mind while my weak laughter echoed in her ears…_

_And one of the blackest days turned into the brightest as my head suddenly rang with the chords of Mendelssohn's wedding march and the shadows became brilliant spots of silver and white. _

_Through the milky gauze of her veil, Bella stared in awe at the flowered garlands that had decorated nearly every surface as she and Charlie entered the room, and I smiled slightly when her eyes skittered across the rows of guests without picking out any familiar faces. Then she looked towards the end of the aisle and locked onto the man standing at the altar, waiting for her, as he had been for over a century._

_His burning gold eyes pierced hers, startling her with their intensity, and her sense of wonder colored the memory with all the vivid magic of a dream as an exulting smile blossomed on his – my – face. _

_After that breathtaking moment, she was alight with excitement, ready to begin our life together. She held onto my unblinking stare throughout the entire ceremony, the remembered image of my gleaming topaz irises blurring with saltwater while she spoke her vows. "I do."_

_I had wanted to shout the words from the rooftops, but I settled for declaring them as clearly and jubilantly as I could, and she felt the weight of my promise. "I do."_

_My hands cradled her face as we leaned toward one another for the binding kiss…_

…_and the balmy, tropical air of a moonlit night rose to the forefront of her thoughts. _

_Bella's heartbeat stuttered when she caught sight of a pale figure standing waist-deep in the black ocean, and I tried to squelch a rush of desire as the terrycloth wrapped around her body was thrown beside my clothes on the branch of a palm tree and her toes sifted through the foam of the surf as she walked out to meet me._

_Rather than dwelling on any specific moment from our honeymoon, a montage of intimate memories flowed between us, stirring a tempest of need within me as she shared how she reveled in each kiss – how she cherished every moan of her name that left my mouth – how her skin burned like a living flame beneath my wandering hands…_

_The same hands that gingerly shaped themselves around her swollen abdomen while she laid limply on the sofa, staring in shock at my expression, at the black eyes fixed on her belly. _

_I tried not to cringe when the me she remembered spoke, but the deadened tone of his voice was a testament to a time that had been both heaven and hell on earth. "The f–" A hard swallow. "It…the baby likes the sound of your voice."_

_She rejoiced as I had marveled with her over our baby, talking about names like any other expecting couple, and her gasp of surprise when I nestled my ear against her stomach quickly transitioned to overwhelming elation as she absorbed the whispers I breathed into her skin. "He loves you. He absolutely_ adores_ you."_

_We're going to be a family, was the first thought that sparkled in her mind once she realized that I no longer had any intention of killing our child. Though the birth process frightened her – as I had suspected – she trusted me to save both her and the baby. Like before, in the meadow, she had no doubts._

Her dim human memories swirl into the ether, and the next vision is breathtaking in its clarity: the perfect recall of a vampire. Instead of vague impressions lingering on the outskirts of the memory, each detail is repeated with flawless accuracy.

_My face, frozen in surprise and caution, peered across the operating table that Bella had effectively died and been reborn upon._

_Her awareness seemed to shrink until all she knew was me, and then I could hear her thoughts – articulate, captivating, eccentric, and radiating the addicting warmth that has seeped into my every pore._

_How many times had I stared at Edward and marveled over his beauty? How many hours – days, weeks – of my life had I spent dreaming about what I then deemed to be perfection? I thought I'd known his face better than my own. I'd thought this was one sure physical thing in my whole world: the flawlessness of Edward's face._

_I may as well have been blind._

_For the first time with the dimming shadows and limiting weakness of humanity taken off my eyes, I saw his face. I gasped and then struggled with my vocabulary, unable to find the right words. I needed better words._

Even as a vampire, she still saw me as beautiful – a celestial being that had descended to the realm of mortals – and I once again became the center of her universe as she attempted to come to terms with her new existence.

_The backdrop of the upstairs bedroom morphed into a cloud-shrouded forest, my face the only constant image. The faint flush of newly consumed blood painted my cheeks and lips, and I sensed Bella's admiration and longing as she reached for my outstretched hand._

_I was unable to resist stroking his face again. And again._

_I sort of forgot that I was waiting for a response to my request as I stared into his shimmering gold eyes._

_It was almost as hard as it had been to turn away from the scent of human blood, but I somehow kept the need to be careful firmly in my head as I stretched up on my toes and wrapped my arms around him. Gently._

_He was not so hesitant in his movements; his arms locked around my waist and pulled me tight against his body. His lips crushed down on mine, but they felt soft. My lips no longer shaped themselves around his; they held their own._

A little hiss escapes through my teeth at the obvious hunger in her thoughts – a hunger that I am dangerously close to reciprocating.

My fingertips press into the curve of her waist as I steel myself to endure as long as she wishes, and then she pulls me back in, her willing victim to this sensual torture.

_Our bedroom came into focus, surrounding us, and I had just finished telling her about the closet, nodding in that direction as I laughed. Bella's passionate gaze never left me, her thoughts pouring over me and through me like the sweetest nectar._

"_We're going to tell Alice that I ran right to the clothes," I whispered, twisting my fingers into his hair and pulling my face closer to his. "We're going to tell her I spent hours in there playing dress-up. We're going to _lie."

_He caught up to my mood in an instant, or maybe he'd already been there, and he was just trying to let me fully appreciate my birthday present, like a gentleman. He pulled my face to his with a sudden fierceness, a low moan in his throat. The sound sent the electric current running through my body into a near-frenzy, like I couldn't get close enough to him fast enough._

_I heard the fabric tearing under our hands, and I was glad_ my_ clothes, at least, were already destroyed. It was too late for his. It felt almost rude to ignore the pretty white bed, but we just weren't going to make it that far._

_His hands found my bare skin and slid down my back, tugging me closer to him, and I whimpered his name, a heated shiver rippling through me as his lips burned a trail of kisses along my throat to my collarbone, wandering further down when I wrapped my leg around his hip…_

Beyond the point of rational thinking or any show of restraint, I abruptly lean forward and cover her mouth with mine, groaning quietly at the taste and feel of her lips, her memories of that night continuing to dance across my mind's eye.

She gasps, startled by my fierceness, and the most tantalizing thoughts I have ever encountered wink out like a snuffed candle, leaving an afterglow on my consciousness that renders me dazed and aching for more. "Oops, lost it!" she sighs, disappointed. Her thumbs caress the shape of my jaw line, and she pulls back a little to meet my eyes, a rueful, lopsided grin on her face.

All I can do is acknowledge the miracle that has just taken place, my voice throaty and laced with profound emotion. "I_ heard_ you." Her smile widens in satisfaction, her amber eyes glistening like jewels, and she rises up on her toes to kiss the tip of my nose. "How?" I ask breathlessly. "How did you do that?"

Bella chuckles once under her breath, tipping her head to the side as she answers, "Zafrina's idea. We practiced with it a few times." She seems to be enjoying my reaction immensely, brushing her fingers along the planes and hollows of my features as I blink twice in slow succession, feeling as though I have been lost in another world. I shake my head, hoping to clear the hypnotic fog, while at the same time Bella's gentle touches rouse vivid pictures from the memories she gave to me.

"Now you know," she comments with a shrug, her hands falling onto my shoulders. "No one's ever loved anyone as much as I love you." Her whole countenance exudes a delighted sense of accomplishment. She seems certain that she has won our ongoing debate over whose feelings are the strongest – a debate that began at a school lunch table what feels like a lifetime ago.

But I am not one to be outdone, especially when it comes to my unconditional and all-consuming love for my Bella, my soul mate.

Smiling down at her, I quirk an eyebrow and remark casually, "You're almost right." A hand slides up her back to her chocolate-colored locks, and I pinch a strand between thumb and forefinger, tugging lightly. "I know of just one exception."

She purses her lips to hide her smirk, rising to the challenge. "Liar," she retorts, and flicks the collar of my shirt with a fingernail, tilting her chin in endearingly stubborn fashion.

I take that as an invitation and bend down to her tempting full lips, idly wondering how it would be if she were able to lower her shield the entire time we are together, how extraordinary it would feel to give her whatever she wanted as soon as it entered her mind…

I stop a hair's breadth from her mouth, my eyes flicking up to hers questioningly. "Can you do it again?" I muse aloud. Lightning sizzles across my nerve endings, anticipating the addictive freedom and warmth of her thoughts melding with mine, and I grin like a eager child, waiting for her reply.

An unsure grimace contorts her heart-shaped face. "It's very difficult," she says hesitantly.

I watch her with earnest confidence, believing with everything I am that she can do this.

She sighs in defeat and then squares her shoulders, lifting one hand to point a warning finger between my eyes. "I can't keep it up if I'm even the slightest bit distracted," she tells me in a stern voice.

"I'll be good," I swear at once. _Please, love,_ I add mentally, begging her with my eyes.

Her eyes narrow, calculating as she studies my expression, her mouth forming that ridiculously tempting pucker, and then she smiles, and I know that I have gained her concession.

She presses her hands to my temples again, eyelids fluttering closed, and I follow suit, waiting with bated breath for the initial brush of thought. The last vestiges of self-control that I employed during our honeymoon are bolstered in those few suspenseful seconds. I must hold myself in check for as long as possible; it will be good practice for us both.

A warm nudge strokes the far corner of my perception, and an instant later, the memories surface, more swiftly than before.

I am overwhelmed – a piece of driftwood being dragged out to sea by the tide – captive to the inescapable allure of her mind.

…_I whimpered his name, a heated shiver rippling through me as his lips burned a trail of kisses along my throat to my collarbone, wandering further down when I wrapped my leg around his hip._

"_Bella," he moaned against my skin, his arms tightening around me. _

_Starbursts of light erupted inside my eyes, and I dug my fingers into his back as the universe exploded all around me. Edward was my anchor in the firestorm, and I cried out, buried within a surge of sensation and raw emotion so intense that I could never have survived as a human._

_I felt him tremble against me, and he breathed my name again, his head sinking into the hollow between my neck and shoulder. Then his mouth started roaming, taking a different path than before, setting me ablaze as a low growl rumbled in his chest, and I responded with one of my own…_

Instinct compels me into action. Capturing Bella's face in my hands, I crush her lips to mine, feeling a sense of loss when her thoughts vanish from view.

She laughs into my mouth, her fingers curling around the base of my neck, and then she returns my urgent kiss with equal passion.

But I cannot help expressing my frustration. "Damn it," I growl, my lips traveling along the curve of her jaw to her throat, pushing her hair aside with my nose in order to reach every inch of her silky skin.

"We have plenty of time to work on it," she murmurs encouragingly, angling her head to the side while her palms slide down my torso to pull on the hem of my shirt.

My kisses linger on a particularly soft spot behind her ear, and she promptly makes short work of the obstructing fabric with one swipe, her caresses igniting pulses of electricity on my bare skin.

Emulating her movements, I tear at the clothes sheathing her lithe body and breathe out a sigh of indescribable relief when I can truly feel her in my arms. I stumble backwards to the general vicinity of the bed, mumbling into her collarbone, "Forever and forever and forever."

We collapse onto the mattress in a tangle of pale limbs, commemorating this night as two halves of a whole, finally granted access to a paradise that exists only for us. A paradise that will never end.

"That sounds exactly right to me," Bella agrees huskily. Her hand snakes around the back of my head, and she pulls my lips down to hers, sealing our bodies into one in every possible way.

She is my beginning and my end, my death and my resurrection, my fate and my salvation. She has given me her heart, her body, her soul, and now her mind – the one thing that I thought would forever be denied me. She offered all that she is freely, without the slightest hint of indecision.

And then she bestowed upon me the greatest gift: a child. Our precious Renesmee, who will be an eternal testimony of the love between a human and a vampire – a love that could not be broken, severed, or destroyed.

Bella has also given me faith, which is almost as great a miracle as the knowledge that I get to keep her forever. Because of this faith she has nurtured within me, I am able to look back on my lonely, self-indulgent decades and realize that the soul I had thought was absent was only dormant – lying in state in the deepest caverns of my dead heart – waiting to be awoken by its mate.

Eighty-seven years later, my soul heard the call, and the essence of my whole existence was found in a fragile human girl that was quite literally the embodiment of my every desire.

I remember thinking once that Bella was sent to this rainy little town to punish me – a living, breathing torture device constructed by a vengeful hag known as Fate – to beckon to the monster I fought so hard against on a daily basis and cause me to stumble in my self-imposed quest for redemption.

When I finally grasped the magnitude of my love for the same girl, I had reasoned that perhaps she was not an incarnation of retribution, but a reward. I envisioned a careless angel crafting the only creature in the world that would demand my attention – one who would be selfless and genuinely_ good, _who would see a person worth loving inside my cold granite shell.

Whether a hag, an angel, or God Himself is responsible for delivering Bella to me, I do not know. Nor do I care. For I believe that no matter what divine powers may have influenced our paths, we both would have searched the world over for each other, and not rested until we had at last joined with our other half.

And once we were together – then, as now, we would never part.

The sun rises over the snow-dusted trees and streaks through the icy windows into our bedroom as Bella and I float blissfully back down to earth, entwined as thoroughly as two people can be. Her fingertips trace patterns on my chest, and I marvel at the red-gold sparkles adorning her skin, bending down often to place a kiss anywhere I might have missed.

Part of my brain recognizes the fact that today marks the beginning of a new year. I consider sharing that information with Bella, but decide a half second later that it really does not matter. There will be many years, decades, centuries and even millenniums that will be new for us. Each day is a new start in our forever.

The dawn continues to break over the horizon as we melt into one another, rejoicing together as forever welcomes us with open arms.

------------

**Author's Notes:** I cannot believe that this is really the end of a fantastic journey that began a little over a year ago. This short story I wrote on a whim (the first chapter) to enter a contest has become such an integral part of my life and gained so many admirers…it hardly seems real that_ Metamorphosis_ is now officially complete. And as a bit of trivia, my Word document for this story has reached the _**300-page **_mark! (301, to be exact.)

The majority of the dialogue is cited directly from _Breaking Dawn_ copyright © 2008 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 742-754, in addition to dialogue and text from pages 48-50, 83-84, 325-327, 390, 426, and 481.

Dialogue is also cited directly from_ Twilight_ copyright ©2005 by Stephenie Meyer, pages 19-20, 275-276, 452-453, and 456-457. Also, reference to the partial manuscript of _Midnight Sun _copyright ©2008 by Stephenie Meyer, page 217.

Before I get into my lengthy speech, so to speak, the Arabic translations for Benjamin and Edward's farewell:

"_Fi Amanillah"_ – May Allah protect you

"_Ma'assalama"_ – Go in peace

I have many people to thank, so please bear with me.

To** icrodriguez** – You are without doubt my most favorite person. Your enthusiasm for my writing and overwhelmingly empowering compliments has been like caffeine and a sugar rush for my creativity on many occasions. You kept me going through the complex labyrinth of Edward's head even when I felt lost, because we were walking along those spiraling paths together. Thank you.

To** Meeks27** – I think of you as one of my loudest (in the best sense) and most supporting cheerleaders. Your little nudges for me to finish each new chapter were a huge encouragement, as is your fervor in reading this story and passing it on to friends. So, thank you.

To** crmcneill** – You have become my coach, motivational speaker, and drill sergeant rolled into one. I looked forward to reading and replying to all your messages, and each of them helped give me the drive to complete this story at the very best of my ability. Thank you so much.

To **ClOsEt FaN 71** – I love your wonderfully long and insightful comments, and your enthusiasm! Keep writing, my dear, and if you ever need a fellow author to bounce ideas off of, please don't hesitate to ask.

I would also like to thank **Mizra** – a fellow fan fiction writer – for her uplifting comments and 'promotion' of this story through her beautiful _Breaking Dawn_ tale _"Consummation"._ And a tremendous amount of gratitude goes out to **ejh0904**, **rhodac**, **Babe**, **snowgood**, and **edbellafan** for their perceptive and gloriously in-depth reviews.

I especially want to thank all of my readers and reviewers. In all honesty,_ Metamorphosis_ exists because of each one of you. It is my gift as a **Twilight Saga** fan to other fans all around the world, and I appreciate every person that has taken the time to read it. THANK YOU!

Also, I owe so much my personal inspirations: amazingly talented fan fiction writers who helped me bring Edward's perspective into focus. Thank you, **blondie**, **jeesiechreesie**, **locqua**, and **vixen1836**.

And of course, thanks to **Stephenie Meyer**, whose dream of a boy and a girl in a meadow gave us a bronze-haired, golden-eyed vampire as well as an entire world that all of us love to live in through her books and through the imaginations of fans everywhere.

One final note, since I know many of you will ask, there are lots of ideas for future stories simmering in my brain even as this one comes to a close. I will be taking a break from any serious writing for the holidays, but the new year could very well signal the beginning of a new story.

Love to you all,

LivesAmongTheStars/Riniel o Imladris


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